v 






f 




^Wip ^Hwwfe 




'.W?, 




LIFE 



RE0OLLE0TIONS AND OPINIONS 



OF- 



Solomon Jagkson Woolley 



AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 



,>% ' >, '= 



COTT & HANN, BOOK PRINTERS, 
COLUMBUS, O. 






bi 






DEDICATION 



To the thousands in the City of Columbus, and m 
Madison and Franklin Counties, 0., who proved them- 
selves my friends when the day of trial and evil came 
to my family ' , who also waited with me for justice to 
avenge itself, and whose sympathy is yet a benediction, 
I dedicate this volume of my life. 

S.J. w. 



PREFACE. 



Life is so earnest to any soul, in harmony with the 
age in which it lives, that it is almost impossible to 
avoid some sort of record of its memories, impulses 
and ideas. This book is only one of the fruits of this 
disposition of a happy life to record not only its joys 
but its sorrows, and find victories, here and there, in 
seeming deieats. Friends have asked the publication 
of the papers, which, like leaves, have tumbled to the 
earth in these autumn days of my career. The author 
has yielded to their request, and with the hope that 
those who are in the spring and summer of life may feel 
some generous impulses toward a common fruitage in 
time and eternity. 

Appledale, June, 1881. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER. . PAGE. 

I. — Birth Place and Parentage, . . .9 

II. — Early Adventures, ... 19 

III.— Shipwreck, Poverty and the Artist, . . 33 

IV. — Reminiscences of Corwin and Harrison, . 53 

■V. — Zachary Taylor and Buena Vista, . . 69 

VI. — Education and Travel, ... 74 

VII. — A Plea for the Study of the Human Body, . 89 

VIII. — Intemperance, .... 105 

IX. — Sam Houston, . . . .114 

X. — Drainage and Draining, . . . 130 

XI.— Farm Notes, . . . . .148 

XII. — Fayetteville and Hayes . . . 164 

XIII. — The Centennial Exhibition, . . . 174 

XIV —The Men'of the East, . . .197 

XV. — A Conspiracy and the Defeat, . . . 226 



THE 

LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS, AND OPINIONS 

OF 

S. J. WOOLLEY. 



CHAPTER I. 

BIRTHPLACE AND PARENTAGE. 

" 1 thank Thee that my childhood's vanished days 

Were cast in rural ways, 
Where I Deheld with gladness ever new, 

That sort of vagrant dew 
Which lodges in the beggarly tents of such 
Vile weeds as virtuous plants disdain to touch, 
And with rough-bearded burs, night after night, 
Upgathered by the morning, tender and true, 

In her clear, chaste light. 

" Such ways I learned to know 

That free will can not go 
Outside of mercy ! learned to bless His name 
Whose revelations, ever thus renewed 
Along the varied year, in field and wood, 

His loving care proclaim. 

" I thank Thee that the grass and red rose 

Do what they can to tell 
Your spirit through all forms of matter flows ;— 
For every thistle by the common way, 
Wearing its homely beauty; for each spring 
That, sweet and homeless, runneth where it will ; 

For night and day ; 
For the alternate seasons,— everything 
Pertaining to life's marvelous miracles." 

P^HUS, after having lived in the city for twenty 

A years," says Mary Clemmer Ames, ik with not 

ev^n a grassy plat of her own on which to rest her feet, 



10 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

the country sights and sounds, which made nearly 
thirty years of Alice Cary's life, faded into pictures of 
the past." And, thus, to my readers, I have only to 
offer such pictures of the past, as breathe the airs of 
the hill-side home and the ample fields, and are sur- 
charged with the juices of the soil, forest and orchard. 
For my life began in the country, and shall end 'mid na- 
ture's harmonies. In no diseased spirit, however, do 
I seek to say that ' ' God made the country, and man 
the town." But I must also freely acknowledge not 
only a love, but a gratitude to the circumstances of 
my career, and while I express affection for the inno- 
cent grandeur and unalloyed freedom of rural life, I 
must add a thankful heart and rejoice that unsuited as 
1 am to the motley life of the city, my cradle was 
rocked under the shadow of forests, and my latest joy 
springs from the heart of nature. 

My earliest memory goes back to the beautiful hills 
and valleys, with their rocks and caves, and ripples of 
pure water — to what seem the fancy sketches of the 
power Divine, the wild but significant architecture of 
Jehovah. 

I was born near Zanesville, Muskingum County, 
Ohio, on the 12th day of January, 1828. Born 
where money was a curiosity, where financial wealth 
was almost undreamed of, where great possessions were 
unknown, where poverty was tyrannical, I was, never- 
theless — despite the paradox — born in the midst of 
wealth. I count the first gleam which fell into my 
vision richer than if it had shot from a heap of gold. 
It was the radiance of a noble woman's eye — the anx- 
ious and loving gaze of my mother. Wealth that tran- 
scended the somewhat homely garb she wore ; wealth, 
that altogether outshone any change that might have 
been made in the house, or its furniture ; wealthy that 



S. J. WOOLLEY. I I 

put to shame all modification that could have been 
made of that roof, its largeness, and the things it pro- 
tected — this was mine in her. 

What was this wealth ? First of all, a noble soul — 
tender, loving, but stern for right as well, and full of 
truth and fidelity. To this nobility of nature, in any 
human being, all the goodness with which one meets, 
all the lessons of experience, all the joy of the years, 
all the teaching of life, all the truth and virtue one may 
touch — all these will cling. Without it, as a foundation 
stone, the rest of life can be but a baseless piece of 
architecture. With it, innumerable things may be pre- 
served, because they maybe placed upon it, and builded 
to it, and thus kept forever. Thus it is, that many 
men have large commerce with truth, large dealings 
with noble men, great acquaintance with the great ideas 
and hopes of their time, and lose them all ; because 
there was nothing for these things to cling to, no foun- 
dation stone was there on which they might arrange 
themselves into a fine building. A noble and true 
nature is like a magnet, attracting and holding nobility 
and truth to itself, and an ignoble nature can no more 
catch and hold these things, than an ordinary piece of 
pig-iron can gather up fragments of solid steel, as it is 
passed through such a mixture of elements as is our 
human life. 

My mother had this nobility of soul to begin with, 
and the difference between her and many other women 
was, not that they had less to do with human experience 
than she, not that they had seen less goodness than she, 
not that they had touched less great and good things 
than she, but that she had fastened' them to herself; 
they had clung to her, as fragments of steel to a strong 
magnet, and they became a part of her power to bear 
and suffer, and achieve. 



12 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Through the memory of her, I have looked at men 
and women, and have not failed to note how little peo- 
ple get out of life. And I have seen that this power to 
get much out of life, does not depend so much on quan- 
tity, as quality. Here is a man, for example, great in 
sympathies, great in passions, great in appetites, great 
in affection, great in will-power, great in thought-power, 
great in executive ability, — great every where, when you 
look at him, as you look at a store when you take an 
inventory. But that man comes to a remarkable series 
of experiences. Years elapse. He goes through them. 
They have silvered his hair. They have furrowed his 
brow. He carries a cane now. He is growing old. 
They have been terrible, but he has passed through 
them. Now you meet him. He is the same man, 
weakened, enfeebled, and, perhaps, sour, sad, and idea- 
less. He has got nothing out of his journey. He did 
not see a glory in all that great route. He learned 
nothing. He went, but saw not. He had ears, but 
he did not hear. And you feel that, just as a man 
who had gone over the sea for pleasure and enjoyment, 
and had seen nothing but storm and shipwreck, and 
danger and death — that even he ought to know some- 
thing about a storm at sea, a wrecked boat and the dire 
disasters — so with this man who had so much trouble, 
you do feel that he, at least, ought to know more than 
he did about the difficulties of life, the hardship of liv- 
ing, the nature of sorrow, the truth of trouble, and the 
reason of woe. But he does not. And he is a sour, 
crusty man. 

Here is another. He passed through a like experi- 
ence. He would see every step. No difficulty would 
shut his eyes. He thought it was a horrible route, 
but he would take in the scenery. He would analyze 
the difficulties. He would look out and into the soul 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 13 

of the storm. He was bound to look at the hand that 
led him. And you meet him. He is grey and worn. 
But his eye is clear, and his voice is sweet, and his 
heart throbs with loyalty. And he can tell you all 
about it. This sailor can tell you all about a storm, and 
a wreck, and a fatal disaster. Besides, he is a better 
sailor. He has not only learned something, but he has 
won something — the blessing of his experience, a hard- 
ier manhood. 

The difference between the men was not in quantity, 
but in quality. One was a magnet to gather all the 
steel particles of intelligence out of that wretchedly 
mixed up experience, the other was a big chunk of or- 
dinary iron that saw nothing, and obtained nothing. 
But there is more. One became a crusty and sour man ; 
the other became sweet and true. The difference is in 
quantity ? No ; in quality. One was a block of wood 
that could not bear the fine chiselings, that would not 
take on the fine art that the chisel-edge contained ; the 
other was a piece of the hardest marble that bore the 
strokes, took the chiselings and kept the vision of the 
artist, clear and true. Greatness is not goodness, but 
goodness is always greatness. My mother had not the 
goodness of greatness, but she had the greatness of 
goodness. 

I have since learned that, if the balances of the eras, 
and much more, if the scales of eternity are to be con- 
sulted, there is no poverty in such places as are presid- 
ed over and influenced by the glow of righteousness and 
the power of living truth. The civilizations that are to 
come, reach their roots below trade, commerce, and 
treasuries, and draw their power from those factors 
whose dwelling place is eternity. The woof and warp 
of the future is taken from these elements that no gold 
can buy, and no lack of it can displace. The future 



14 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

will not be poor, as assuredly the present is not, as long 
as the forces which gleam from such earnest and faith- 
ful eyes are supreme. John Stuart Mill, to my mind, 
writes more profoundly than we think, when he says : 

' ' The worth of a state in the long run is the worth 
of the individual composing it, and a state which 
postpones the interest of their mental expansion and 
elevation, to a little more of administrative skill, or 
that semblance of it which practice gives in the details 
of business ; a state which drafts its men in order that 
they may be mere docile instruments in the hands even 
for beneficial purposes, will find that with small men no 
great thing can really be accomplished; and that the 
perfection of machinery to which it has sacrificed every- 
thing, will in the end avail it nothing for want of vital 
power, which, in order that the machine might work 
more smoothly, it preferred to banish." 

For all of this signifies and suggests that there is 
nothing so necessary as the purity and power of in- 
dividual. Well, obviously, no influences nor machineries 
can make this result certain as the home. And, as 
truly may it be said, that the factors of all right home- 
influence are such as these I have sought to describe. 

So I judge that we will see a new political economy 
dawn. We will know that it is impossible to substitute, 
with success, dollars for manhood; that that nation is 
the richest in the long run, which is conservative and 
creative of manliness, and that the sources of wealth, 
therefore, lie with forces great as eternity. 

For these reasons, I may say, I am almost grateful 
that I was born in the midst of poverty, and I hope my 
life has been a commentary, sufficiently clear, on the 
fact that he who honestly makes a surplus, makes personal 
power and wins personal strength in the making of it> 



S. J. WOOLLEY. J 5 

to excuse me from any mention of that most potent 
reason of gratitude. 

My reader need expect no long array of dates and 
names. I have descended from no royal house, and 
have only such interest in my ancestry as to regard that 
royalty with which all men may be invested. 

Facts, which it would be immodest for me to men- 
tion, have been stated in the '■ History of Franklin and 
Pickaway Counties" as follows: 

On her father's side, my mother was of Holland 
descent, and her ancestors, including her father and 
grandfather, had been people of considerable substance 
in Amsterdam, where they carried on a large manufac- 
tory of silks, linens, etc. Jacob Askins, her father, 
during a commercial voyage to England, some time in 
the last century, was overtaken by a terrible storm, 
which so disabled the vessel upon which he was a pas- 
senger that she drifted for several months at the mercy 
of the winds and waves, and was finally driven across 
the Atlantic, and cast a wreck upon the shores of 
Virginia, nearly all originally on board having perished. 
Mr. Askins, then still a young man, was among the 
survivors, but was deterred by his dreadful experiences 
from again venturing upon the sea, and decided to settle 
in the new world, to which he had so strangely emi- 
grated. He settled in Loudon County, in the Old 
Dominion, married a Miss. Shafer, and after some years, 
removed to Washington, Guernsey county, Ohio, where 
he reared his family, including Elizabeth, who was my 
mother. My ancestors, on my father's side, were 
English, but emigrated from the mother country long 
before the Revolutionary War, and were among the 
first settlers of New Jersey. Jacob Woolley, my grand- 
father, removed to Athens county, Ohio, when that 
part of the State was almost an unbroken wilderness, 



ID LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

and settled upon what is now called Jonathan's creek. 
His son, Isaac, my father, was bred a stone-cutter, and 
afterwards spent most of his time away from the pater- 
nal home, working at his trade. After his first marriage, 
which was to a Miss Stokely, of Muskingum county, he 
settled on a place of his own near Zanesville, from which 
he removed, when I was but one year old, to another 
place, three miles from Amesville, in Ames township, 
Athens county, on a branch of Federal creek, where 
most of our family were reared. By this marriage he 
had several sons, half-brothers of mine, who, in after 
years, were remembered, as may be more fully recorded. 
Their mother died while they were young, and Mr. 
Woolley, in the year 1827, took Miss Elizabeth Has- 
kins to be his wife. Several years afterwards, he sold 
the Athens county farm, and purchased another in Star 
Township, Hocking county, where he resided for many 
years. I was still very young at the time of the 
removal, but rendered all the assistance I could in the 
labors of the farm, and in due time, as the half-broth- 
ers, one after another, grew to manhood and went away, 
I had to take upon myself its chief burdens, as my 
father was absent a large part of the time, pursuing his 
vocation of stone-cutter. I found little time or oppor- 
tunity for schooling, nine months in all, or three terms 
of about three months each, in the primitive country 
schools of that day, comprising the whole of my formal 
education. Until I was fourteen years of age, I had 
never had an hour's training in school. About that 
time the people of the neighborhood spontaneously 
agreed that they ought to have a school-house, and 
forthwith set about the erection of a rude affair, which 
was ready for occupancy within a fortnight after the 
vote to build was taken. I preserve this note of this 
antique structure : 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 17 

"The architecture of this school-house did not cor- 
respond with that of the present day. It was made of 
round logs, with a clap-board roof, laid on loose, with 
weight-poles on top, to hold the clap-boards down ; the 
floor was laid with what we call puncheons — a tree split 
in wide pieces, from two to eight inches thick, and 
hewn on one side ; the chimney was made at one end, 
of stone, and we gathered up enough newspapers to 
paste over the windows, in place of glass ; the paper, 
being oiled, transmitted a very mellow light. Slabs, or 
boards, were fastened around the walls, for our writing 
desks, and pins upon the walls to hang our hats and 
dinners on. Our seats were made of small trees, split 
in two, with the split side dressed, and four pins, or legs, 
underneath, making each of the proper heighth for a 
seat." 

The schools kept in such buildings in those days, 
were of the kind, long since passed away in this State, 
known as " subscription-schools." Miss Rebecca Prin- 
dle was the first teacher in this school, and so my pre- 
ceptor, except my mother, from whom I had already 
received, as I subsequently learned, valuable instruction 
at home. The old-fashioned spelling-school was held 
by her once every week in term time. In the summer 
I attended a Sabbath-school nearly four miles from 
my home. 

I take from a short account of my life elsewhere, a 
brief extract, which relates a fact more clearly than 
might be justifiable in myself: 

"When but sixteen years of age, young Woolley 
achieved a notable business and industrial triumph. 
Through bad management his father's finances became 
involved, and he was compelled to borrow four hundred 
dollars at ten per cent, interest, giving a mortgage upon 
his farm by way of security. A year rolled speedily 



1 8 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS. 

around, and nothing was realized toward the extinguish- 
ment of the debt. It was considered in the neighbor- 
hood inevitable that the mortgagee would get the place 
by foreclosure. At this crisis Solomon came to the 
rescue, and proposed that while his father should con- 
tinue at his trade for the support of his family, he would 
undertake the sole charge of the farm (one hundred and 
sixty acres) in a vigorous effort to make enough to lift 
the mortgage. It was agreed to. Within eighteen 
months the full sum must be raised, and Solomon saw 
that with the best of management it was only possible 
to effect it by sowing most of the land to wheat, and 
that then, with a good harvest and fair price, success 
was certain. He had not only the entire responsibility 
to shoulder, but almost the entire labor to do, since his 
adult half-brothers had now all gone from home, and 
his younger brothers were too small to be of much ser- 
vice. He buckled fearlessly and stoutly, however, to 
his task. Beginning his day of labor at four o'clock, 
he worked three hours until breakfast, and then, with 
brief intermissions for dinner and supper, he kept on 
until dark, and on moonlight nights until far into the 
evening. His faithful toil, though it brought him many 
hours of weariness and somewhat impaired his health, 
met with its reward. It turned out to be 4 a good wheat 
year,' and Solomon's crop — 'good, well-filled grains, of 
a superior quality' — was the finest in that region. 
Wheat, too, was higher than usual, and he sold for a 
good price. Consequently, when the mortgage fell 
due, he had the proud satisfaction of releasing it in 
full, and presenting it to his lately burdened and anx- 
ious, but now overjoyed and grateful parents." 



CHAPTER II. 



1L00K through the mist of years at the external 
nature with which I was surrounded. Uncon- 
sciously we weave our experience into life and charac- 
ter, even as the plant weaves sunshine into beauty and 
fragrance. How does the world sweep into us and of 
that which we give the world how great a part has the 
world given us. I do not claim all this love of the 
beautiful and the grand, which I have felt and tried to 
reproduce, as my own. Nature gave it to me in part, 
as God , gave it all to nature. I only believe that we 
ought to do for man what nature, and early and late 
association, have done for us. Those streams flow 
through my nature as once and even now they glide 
at the base of those Hocking hills. They are like 
Emerson's river, Muskatequit: 

"Thou in thy narrow banks art pent; 

The stream I love unbounded goes 
Through flood, and sea, and firmament; 

Through light, through life it forward flows. 

I see the inundation sweet; 

I hear the spending of the stream; 
Through years, through men, through nature fleet, 

Through love and thought, through power and dream." 

They contain streams of thought and inspiration 
which have their source at the throne and flow into the 
" river of the water of life." 

The scenery of my youth has been an emanci- 
pating, inspiring influence upon my whole life. Lib- 
erty of thought abides somehow in high and grand 



20 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

hills, and deep rugged valleys. I do not wonder 
that the legend of William Tell finds him free 'neath 
the summit of the Alps, and in the regions of eternal 
snow. Slavery is intolerable to a man who has once 
felt the grandeur of sublime natural scenery. Let 
no man own your soul. Let no creed cramp your 
spirit. Let no doctrine chain your mind. Let no party, 
church, or school, become proprietor of your fetterless 
thought. This is the teaching of the magnificent world, 
with its rocks and pines. As well might I be the slave 
of any creed or idea, man or school, thought I, as for 
one of those eagles to fly with a chain, fettered and 
bound. Tyranny is unnatural. Oppression is opposed 
to splendid heights and gorgeous sunsets, and when 
nature has sung her whole psalm of melody into the 
soul of man, and man has heard its deep diapason, 
every thought and every sentiment, every energy and 
every inspiration, of every man, shall have its freedom 
guaranteed forever. The rocks showed the abiding tes- 
timony they had to give of grand forces. They were 
piled one upon another, and kissed with the soft sun- 
shine, they frowned across deep valleys, which were 
filled with light. Their torn and fragmentary condition 
attested the existence of huge powers. Insensibly I 
was broadened in my notions of the universe. I could 
not think it a toy. Magnificent energies spoke when 
the lightning flashed from crag to crag, and as the 
thunder seemed to me to shatter the very skies, and 
shake their stars, I was impressed with the importance 
of the universe, of which this was a part. Life's loom 
takes up these threads, which hang so loosely from the 
visible world, and weaves them into our spiritual being, 
thus making them realities of the invisible. We all need 
the enlarging influence of the presence of great things. 
This life has its foundation in the principle of being 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 21 

grand as the thoughts of God. And when one finds 
the record of massive energies without him, and is con- 
scious of yet more magnificent forces within him, he 
feels that again "deep calleth unto deep." There is 
just as much grandeur in nature to a man as he takes in. 
To a blind man there is no sun. To some people, the 
tender grass is not a fine collection of laboratories, and 
a brave, living energy, but so much hay. They meas- 
ure a sunbeam by the money which it makes. They 
see no glory in the colors of a rainbow, because they 
make no dollars out of it. But the true lover of nature 
feels that she is valuable not for the seen, but for the 
unseen, and that her glory is beyond the yard-stick and 
scales. 

Brighter lights and vaster things 

Have touched my running thought. 
Such are blessings fortune flings; 

Of such our life-work wrought. 

Never have the early sounds 

Left the avenues of mind; 
Ceaseless fall the countless rounds 

Of years— the cold and kind. 

Still the tender wintergreen 

Strikes my re-awakened sense, 
Still the beauty of the scene 

Hath its own great recompense. 

Bosomed 'mid the solid hills, 

Lay the basin, full of stars, 
Fell that confluence of rills 

Over strong and rocky bars. 

High above the turkey's nest, 

Builded 'neath the winter sky, 
Here within the sweetest rest, 

Filled with immortality. 

Thus the years return and bring 

Fruits of fall and winter's cheer, 
Glory, verdure, love of spring. 

Memories which mould this tear. 

The brooks received a most epical significance, as 



22 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

they dashed from out the bosom of the hills. They 
held in their quiet, lake-like stillness, when some huge 
rock impeded their courses, the sun by day and the 
glittering stars at night, and when they fell over into 
deep gorges, and rushed along over pebbly and rock- 
covered bottoms, they shook into beautiful silver haze 
the mirror their quiet would have given to the moon. 
Poems, indeed, were these specimens of God's litera- 
ture. Tennyson could only read God's thought when 
he translated into his words of letters those words of 
God's raindrops, and only by catching the human side 
of that of which he caught the creative and divine 
vision, does this our earthly poet reproduce the litera- 
ture of Jehovah : 

"I steal by lawns and grassy plots; 

I slide by hazel-covers; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 

I skip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, 

Among my skimmering swallows, 
I make the netted sunbeams dance 

Against my sandy shallows. 

I murmur under moon and stars, 

In brambly wildernesses, 
I linger by my shining bars; 

I loiter 'round my cresses. 

And out again I curve and flow, 

To join the brimming river. 
For men may come, and men may go, 

But I go on forever." 

From such influences I have never felt entirely ex- 
iled. In my life of business, this peculiar vein of 
pleasure is omnipresent. 

Never have I been able to escape the inspiration 
of business. That there is such a peculiarity of 
mind I have no doubt. Business has been with 
me a passion, like the cadence of thoughts and 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 23 

words to the poet ; like the idea and colors to the 
painter. Such it was in my youth, and to the belief 
that activity, directed by honesty, is the healthful and 
grand exercise of man, I owe those flashings of suc- 
cess which have crossed my path and now give me 
pleasure and mental rest. Some of my earliest busi- 
ness ventures have woven themselves into the texture of 
my very life so thoroughly that I can not reproduce 
them, but others stand out in bold relief in my memory, 
and either by a touch of humor or a savoring of tragedy 
reproduce themselves continually. 

In the, spring of 1845, I thought I had struck the 
sources of wealth. I discovered on my father's farm in 
Star Township, Hocking County, Ohio, a strange por- 
ous substance, which I have since learned was one of 
the countless modifications of iron, and which yielded 
upon burning, a red result, of a hue between Spanish 
Brown and Venetian Red. Its strange and beautiful 
color charmed me, while beneath all the lustre, I 
sought its possibilities as a source of wealth. All my 
mechanical genius was aroused. If ever I had felt able 
to do all things, I felt that then the creatures of the 
earth were to become my servants. Never had I failed 
in accomplishing with tools what I tried to do, and I 
was certain, that, all aglow with the enthusiasm of a 
new discovery, I could not touch the forces about me 
in vain. I gathered the old wheels to my new ones, 
made cogs without number, and brought the remnants 
of an old grist mill in the shape of two burrs to the aid 
of my purpose. My poverty made me do without both, 
and finding necessity the mother of invention, I made 
of wood what I saw others have in better form. I had 
made a mill. I hitched the horse to the enterprise. 
The whole neighborhood for miles around, came to 
laugh at my lunacy. But the mill did go. Then the 



24 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

grinding begun. Nearly fifteen hundred pounds of the 
raw material, unchanged but by grinding, were brought 
out triumphantly. What was I to do with it? 

Cincinnati, a name only larger than my dreams of glory 
which had their formation at that wooden mill, rushed 
into my head as an objective point. It was to a South- 
ern Ohio business boy, just what Mecca was to a young 
Mohammedan Shiek. My father was beyond the ideas 
of the community in which he lived, because he would 
hear my requests that I might go to the city with my 
products, and the common sentiment was that a boy, 
opinions and all, belonged to the father, until he was 
twenty-one years of age. Before my father, I produced 
arguments, unanswerable. Nothing could exceed my 
pertinacity. At last, what was an enormous sum, two 
dollars, he kindly allowed me to make, that this whole 
thought, a gigantic enterprise, might have its bud and 
blossom in Cincinnati. At Pomeroy, I gazed upon 
the boat which was to carry my great achievement. 
The boat was a marvel ; what I should have thought of 
that huge institution, if my mind had not been so 
full of the idea that the greatest act of its career was to 
take that result to the city, I do not know. I lost all 
my wonder in my dream. I took the cheapest passage, 
I " wooded " it ; and thus I paid one-half of my fare. I 
was anxious, and looked at the kegs of paint I had 
made, as we went down the river. I was ready, and in 
fact, had been all that day and night, to see any body 
who wanted to purchase this load. We arrived. I saw 
the kegs unloaded. I thought the wharf had never re- 
ceived such an ornament. After I had quietly refreshed 
my pride by gazing for some minutes upon my wealth, 
I started to take in the city. Never since, have I 
walked so slowly. I was confounded with the glories 
of civilization. I was lost in amazement at the stupen- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 25 

dous march of man. Only one idea kept me from 
losing all thought, except that which possessed me when 
some great building, some elegant window, some huge 
piece of architecture, or some fine parade of aristocracy 
would strike my view, and that was, that I was the sole 
owner, proprietor, discoverer, grinder, and agent of that 
pile of red dust, down on the wharf, put up in kegs. 
This idea was larger than Cincinnati. With it I be- 
sieged druggists, cabinet-makers, painters, wagon-build- 
ers, hardware stores, and all other men of whom I 
might think they could be interested in buying what I 
had to sell ; but I had no success. The force of my 
enterprise began to fail. The city grew in greatness, 
and my prospects grew in littleness. Had I struck the 
city in a bad time ? No ! Had nobody any interest in 
paint? Yes. Had I not done a good thing? Yes. 
Well, what was the trouble? It was only this. I had 
to learn that there was a deeper reason than what they 
told me when they said : " It is only a cent a pound," 
"we have plenty," and that was, that this was a big 
world ; it had a great many farms on it, a great deal of 
red paint in the raw material, a great many boys who 
could make cogs and set burrs ; — and that visit taught 
me when I left it with the commission merchants sadly, 
that, because this world was greater than I had supposed, 
it would take all my energies to succeed in it, and that 
if I did succeed, that success would be worth as much 
more as the world was greater than my boyish notions 
of it. The Commission Merchants, Springman & Son, 
loaned me enough to get home on. I had lost some- 
thing in my stock of dollars, but nothing in my stock of 
ideas. My inspiration to live and act was as much 
greater as the world had become, compared with my 
former idea of it. I was bound to enter the magnifi- 
cent arena of life, and, hearing a thousand trumpet-tones 
3 



26 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

of invitation, I resolved to strike out and alone upon its 
tremendous issue. I must touch some tone myself. I 
knew of the Cabinet-makers' business ; I thought of the 
trade only as a means to independence, and as a way 
into the active life of the world. As a means, such as 
this, I would have valued anything. Any road which 
led to business was for me paved with precious stones. 
I seized this route, had gone to Chauncey, and had 
begun to learn the trade, but in the face of a miserable 
living which — a forceful argument with a country-boy 
of good health — persuaded me to change my mode of 
life. The air was full of the rumor of battle. The toc- 
sin of war had sounded, and its echo fell among those 
hills, and lingered in all our souls. Ohio was moved 
by the words of eloquence on both sides. My friends 
thought it was the grandeur of heroism to go. 

While the Mexican war meant all this to many, to 
me it meant simply business. I do not propose to in- 
flict upon my readers any sham love of country. While 
I am a patriot, as I hope, I do not desire to assert a pa- 
triotism of which I was never conscious. I believed I 
could get money enough out of the Mexican war, if I 
should volunteer, to help me into business. Evenings 
at the fireside fled, with my mother (whose affection 
lingers like a tender benediction). I tried to assure her 
that the war would close before I could reach New 
Orleans. But love of home was stronger than love of 
wealth, and I remained to see my friends return from 
that fragmentary march they made to New Orleans, 
each holding what I so much desired, their right to a 
farm and their pay as soldiers. But this attempt, while 
it did not cast such rich seeds of experience at my feet 
as my more serious effort at Cincinnati, also did not dis- 
courage me, or make life the less attractive to me. 
Rather did it increase my desire and sharpen my already 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 27 

acute expectation. I went to Logan and made a con- 
tract with Mr. Kanode ; the work I could stand, but not 
without good food and of a sufficient quantity. This I 
did not get, and at the expiration of two months I was 
again without work. A gentleman is rare, if even a 
thousand such be at one's hand. There is a certain sol- 
itude in all goodness as well as greatness. And if the 
good and the great would multiply, there is a certain 
divineness about them both which makes their illustra- 
tion objects of admiration and love. Of the rare men 
I shall remember, the friend I then encountered, was 
Alvin Finney. With an honesty which was not ashamed, 
like the massive rocks of his native State, with a virtue 
as pure and bracing in its influence as the breeze 
swept from the breast of the ocean upon his boyhood 
home, with the love of truth which like an arch setting 
upon these two pillars, he, most of all men, filled me 
with the idea that life was nothing without honor, that 
wealth was valuable only in the clear eyes of truth, and 
that he who embodies the principle of manhood in him 
becomes the champion of what can never die. That 
descendant of the Pilgrim fathers bore in him the stamp 
of his lofty lineage, and how far one human hand can 
reach I know not, but I do know that his strong hand 
of influences reaches through these years and touch 
the strings of my life into new music. 

I aspired to what is termed a business life. Chilli- 
cothe then became an object of attraction. A slaughter 
house was opened, and to this I urged my way. There 
I hired myself, and there — and it proves how fine may 
be the sense of kindness when the sense of smell is out- 
raged — I was given a place and sort of work, such as 
my physical condition would admit of and endure. 
This kindness fell upon me as an argument I could not 
resist when a strike was made for higher wages. When 



28 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

the hands left and began to receive twenty-five cents 
advance per day, I felt that while it was all right for 
them, I could not afford to sell my sense of gratitude 
for a quarter a day. The efforts of this engagement 
crystalized in the shape of about twenty dollars, which 
then was the means of my future. 

Before this I had written to the publishers of a United 
States History concerning the agency. Visiting Lan- 
caster, to obtain a set of harness, I met Mr. Miller and 
his sons, who now live in Columbus, Ohio. They in- 
formed me of the book and held out inducements. I 
engaged to do work for them at such a price, that I 
afterward took the amount they must have received into 
consideration, and resolving to have no barrier between 
the publishing company and my interest, I embodied 
my desires in a letter to them. The answer was sat- 
isfactory, and my career as a book agent began. The 
results of one's life are not to be measured by the con- 
scious successes that have followed conscious efforts. 
Many of our best are unconscious efforts. Many of our 
most sublime are also unconscious successes. A hu- 
man being hardly knows the immortalities he touches 
inside the mortalities. No man can assert how much of 
eternity there is in time. I think of myself as a book 
agent. I remember how unpopular he is to-day. I 
suppose this is so because the books now sold by sub- 
scription are not valuable. He is not only unpopular, 
but he is entirely unappreciated as a force in civilization. 
How many a dumb soul has spoken first under the news 
of the discovery to them of a great world, which would 
have been lost without the poor book agent vending 
his immortal wares. In the time to which attention has 
been cited the book agent was a force in community. 
The rough but brave men, and the poorly dressed but 
noble women would gather around to look upon the 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 29 

literary curiosity. And having purchased, it became a 
family treasure from which were gathered lessons of great- 
est value. I am persuaded that many hearts have been 
fired into patriotic devotion by the reading of the book 
which I sold, and while I sought for money whereby life 
might be entered upon in security and peace, I ' ' was 
building better than I knew." My unconscious success 
was greater than the conscious glory of the enumera- 
tion I received, for manhood was being made, and the 
bands of civilization were being strengthened as by the 
vast fire places each word of the struggle of liberty fell 
into their interested homes. 

All the money I had was put into the histories. They 
had been sent to Cincinnati instead of Logan. I man- 
aged a way to Cincinnati, but could not get my books. 
Here I thought of my wealth, stored in kegs, in Spring- 
man & Son's commission house. They furnished me, 
by loan, eight dollars, and with these books I began a 
march homeward. The proverbial anxiety to get into 
one's new field of labor had fully taken hold of their 
new-fledged agent. And the usual fate — such a fate as 
develop the real agent which may lie all hid in the 
nominal agent — came to him, for no books were sold 
that next day. He had exhausted his stock of argu- 
ment. He had used all his adjectives of praise till they 
were threadbare. He had over- worked what the pub- 
lishers told him to say in their private circular. He 
had killed, by working them to death, all the influence 
of the pet phrases he had. All this, and not one book 
had been sold. As such do I contemplate myself as 
an agent. 

The failure to sell my books urged me to Rutland. 
While I traveled, the men I met and the homes I passed 
did not escape my earnest solicitation. But Rutland 
was reached, and that at night, with my sack as full of 



30 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

books as it had ever been. They weighed me down as 
the evening grew darker into night, not so much because 
they were heavy, in and of themselves, as because I 
had seen so few prospects of a sale that I was the less 
inspired to carry them. Wagons passed me and I tried 
to expostulate with their drivers, beseeching a ride, but 
the responses which came were not inviting. A map, 
which I thought ought to strike the noblest chord of in- 
telligence in one fellow's nature, was offered, and though 
it was true, as I had divined, that his moral character 
lay very near to his intellectual nature, the map moved 
neither ; for with the ominous gaze of utter ignorance 
he fixed his unlettered eyes upon me and the map, and 
concluded, I suppose, that, because he had never heard 
of one, and the cattle sometimes died unexpectedly, 
that " map " and that " fellow " were both to be avoid- 
ed as a pestilence. 

Sunday came and went with the past. Monday came 
with its ill success. Home began to assume lofty pro- 
portions in my soul. As the glories and greatness of a 
newly found enterprise fade, the quiet splendors of the 
cradle in which successful thoughts were rocked, appear 
and glow with a fresh radiance. Home became my 
chief desire. Toward that place my route lay. The 
books were nearly all left at Pagetown, and while I only 
took with me two or three, I had just that many more 
than I could sell. At home I had left an antiquated 
and not beautiful specimen of horse-flesh, and I relied 
on this said animal ; though it seems now with such an 
immediate prospect of death before the beast, I was al- 
most guilty of burdening one who was very near the 
grave — to help me out of the predicament. Security, 
such as in those days was placed at the bottom of every 
business transaction, was given, and the wood-works of 
a buggy were obtained, and with a pertinacity which 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 31 

astonished the neighbors, I fixed my vehicle and started 
for my books. Returned, and with them I continued 
this line of attack, believing that that "tide in the af- 
fairs of men" which leads on to fortune "would, per- 
chance, strike me, and I should yet have cause of joy. 
Pagetown, Athens, Chauncey, in turn became objects 
of my care, and with no ray of light. But my time 
had come. Nelsonville responded to my touch, and like 
a tone on the key-board, the music then began. Three 
books sold and a light heart. McArthur was visited ; 
the rest of my books were sold, and with the money I had 
found expression in joyant expectation. One hundred 
and fifty copies, so the publisher wrote, lay at Colum- 
bus, Ohio. With a one-horse wagon and my com- 
panion, who still served me, marvelously, I started ; 
arrived at Columbus ; took thirty copies ; went north, 
and began what to me was an era of unexampled pros- 
perity. One hundred miles south did my way soon 
stretch to the hills of Athens, and there also books 
were sold, and success was won. But books cannot 
confine the trading genius of a young man. I caught 
sight of a man whose trading abilities did not, as I after- 
wards discovered, equal the honest endeavors I had to 
guard my own interests. My former " comrade in dis- 
tress " was exchanged for a new one, with which I was 
to have some strange experiences. One has not left 
my thought, though years have intervened. Because 
life at that time was so full of enthusiasms and its activi- 
ties were so urgent, whatever touched it became of a 
nature imperishable. Now, no amount of consideration 
of the seriousness of life, the value of one's body, and 
even the fearfulness of death, can chase away some 
ridiculous hues of humor with which that scene is cov- 
ered. There are occasions when it is solemn even to 
laugh, and with this occasion I can only do honorable 



32 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

service by describing, as the ludicrous affair has since 
struck me, the first experience I had with the new 
horse. It is only a very true but irreverent illustration 
of what is a proverb, ' ' do not put new wine into old 
bottles. " For me thereafter it became "do not drive a 
new horse with an old bridle." What a long head had 
that horse of which I was now relieved, and what a 
short head had this horse of which I was now possessed. 
I did not stop to think. On went the bridle, in the 
rush which prosperity had brought upon me. A few 
glances of pride — glances which never see anything, 
for pride is blind — and I was ready to start. That 
country is diversity diversified. Rough, covered with 
hills that grow into mountains, deep ravines and large 
boulders, made traveling a tragedy. All this rugged 
scenery had for the traveler its climax at Dickey's Hill, 
a long descent on the road from Plymouth to Amesville, 
whose course was broken by corduroy bridges of unex- 
ampled roughness, with deep gulleys at the sides, huge 
rocks, which the traveler must dodge in his meandering 
way, fallen trees, yet untouched by the hand of civiliza- 
tion, and a loneliness that settled over that new country 
like death. The hill was beyond a mile in length. I 
had began its descent. Strangely, my horse developed 
a strong mouth. I tightened my grasp upon the reins. 
Suddenly the gait of that animal quickened. I expos- 
tulated, in very quick, sharp terms, against this 
increased speed. The wagon bounced from the ground, 
and I from the wagon. I hinted to the steed that I was 
not in such a hurry, and I said, very solemnly, some- 
thing concerning a cessation of such a rapid descent. 
Solemnity, words, kind and sharp, efforts at those reins 
that tired me out, nothing would stop that beast. 
The bits of that long bridle had fallen from her mouth, 
and all my pulling only increased her speed. On, like 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 33 

the avalanche, we sped. I began to dodge, and think 
of the " last things." It was a sorry day for the book 
agent. Where would I land ? My horse going faster. 
Would I land at all ? I wished — I wished I was any- 
thing but this, and everywhere but here. Crash, 
through a limb; on, over the pole-bridges; shaking me 
dumb with their rough surfaces. It was not a pleasant 
ride. Besides, it was Sunday, and I did not feel that I 
was in a specially religious frame of mind, for I could 
see nothing, and as I began to think how foolish I must 
look, trying to stand up, and falling down, screaming 
through that wild region, eyes like moons ; hair float- 
ing, like a flag in a storm from the mast of some ship ; 
just as I thought of this, crash, against a fallen tree 
struck the wagon ; away, like an arrow shot from a 
string, did I speed into the branches. We were stopped 
at last, but I did not like to be so taken by surprise. 
There stood my horse looking into the branches for me. 
Fastened by my torn clothes, I applied for freedom. 
Solemnly the concern I had rode in awaited my arrival. 
I took my bearings, for my head was clear, though it 
was somewhat less covered with skin. I adjusted that 
bridle, and, looking back over the hill, tried to feel 
solemn, but I then began a laugh, which has risen again, 
whenever in the fleeting years I have thought of that 
horse-trade. 



CHAPTER III 



ON that trip I passed through Amesville, the 
home of the family of Bishop Ames, who, as a 
leader in Ecclesiastical Councils, as a deep and strong 
thinker into the value of methods and ways, as a states- 
man of unimpeachable fidelity to church and country, 
had no rival, and has to-day no critics. I may cherish for 
the future this fact concerning his home. It was a home 
of honesty, of thrift, of economy, of piety. Edward 
Raymond Ames was the child of these forces. Once at 
a sale made by Edward's father, my father purchased a 
candle-stick, which, while it holds a source of light, re- 
minds me of that brave man who held in his soul the 
light of the world. I shall preserve it as a mute but 
eloquent story of that boy's life. 

My book agency comes to its end. My success was 
so great that I had excited the jealousy of those 
who were so anxious to obtain my services. The 
Millers, of Lancaster, were astonished at my sales, and 
saw that they had dug a pit into which they would 
probably fall. They simply put an end to my work by 
securing the sole agency for the whole Western country. 
Thus ended my first successful venture into the business 
of the world. 

After two months at home, I determined to strike out 
again for myself. Dreams of New York City, greater 
than all else but the vision of a young man visited me, 
and especially since I had learned more of the great- 
ness of the world and its ways. All the West was 
made to catch and learn what might be found in out 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 35 

of this great city. To Kingston, in Ross County, Ohio, 
I pressed my way. I hired to a gentleman who was 
about to take a drove of horses across the mountains. 
That phrase " across the mountains " just then meant 
volumes. It was to that day a gigantic undertaking. 
It also meant much more than distance, for an idea had 
gained currency that all the civilization of the continent 
belonged in fee-simple to the Yankee, and he who would 
see the wonders thereof must visit it at home. 

After my engagement I began preparations for my- 
self and my employer. A runaway, and other laughable 
and dangerous occurrences, and we were off for the city. 
The route grew in attractiveness and pleasure as we ad- 
vanced. I was experiencing a gradual enlargement of 
opinion, and my ideas of the world were undergoing a 
thorough and systematic expansion. But what was the 
astonishment of my mind when we entered the grandeur 
of the Alleghenies. My reader has seen what an influ- 
ence touched me through that childhood home. But no 
hint can be given of the great influence of these tower- 
ing sublimities cast in stone and covered with the glory 
of that luxuriant season, as I cast my eyes upon these 
mountains. As my boyhood was impressed with the 
Hocking hills, so was my early manhood with these 
bastions of stone. Up and up, they lifted their heads 
into infinite azure and bathed their broad shoulders in 
the dewy clouds. Broad foundations knitted to the 
core of the planet, bearing large forests, crowned with 
eternal verdure, sprinkled with beautiful flowers — these 
mountains seemed the name of God written in stone. 
From their summits one could gaze into the deep blue 
haze, which like a benediction hung over a large valley, 
Down, down, down, until the eye is lost in the immense 
chasm. Up, up, up, until the line which lies between 
the visible and the invisible seems touched by sight. 



36 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

There in the green valley one silver thread — a river flow- 
ing in silence to the seas. There in the amazing height 
a quiver of sunbeams, shot like arrows from the sun, lie 
brokened and fastened against the solid front, amid the 
clouds. The valleys between these huge piles of rock, 
seemed like vast cups of sunshine, so full of the glory 
that they overflowed. The everlasting stillness was 
solemnity infinite, their eternal solitude was the sug- 
gestion of the grandeur of the God who made them. 

Especially did the Blue Ridge impress me. Slowly 
we came to their summits. But as a vision, broke 
the splendid panorama. Great billowy clouds travel up 
the valley and break against the mountain side into 
fragments. But over and beyond the clouds I looked 
into the mirage of infinity. Out of a mountain, the 
highest of the region, there breaks forth a splendid 
spring. " Where does this head?" the traveler says as 
he looks for a hillside, or a higher point for the loca- 
tion of the vein. And in that silence the question re- 
mains unanswered. I think of another bursting spring, 
upon another but spiritual mountain height, and while 
the children of men see dripping down the mountain 
sides, the waters of salvation, and ask, "Where does 
this fountain head?" the word of God answers: " And 
he showed me a pure river of the water of life, clear as 
crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of 
the lamb." 

I also remember the sight of Bedford in the valley, 
and standing on a lofty place, I saw great clouds come 
against the mountain on the other side, touch and dis- 
solve into water, which fell in drops and tiny rills down 
the rock-builded sides, and I thought of all the pictures 
that I had seen, this was the grandest, since, it now 
seems the story of redeemed manhood. Every true 
man feels those clouds touch his life, but he who 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 37 

embodies the highest truth, keeps his head in eter- 
nal light, while they resolve themselves into dew and 
hang like jewels in the golden light, fall at his feet to, 
refresh the earth. 

The route to New York was enjoyable, and the arri- 
val was to me an intense pleasure. My horse was sold, 
and the money was soon in forty-eight brass clocks and 
a pile of books. The books were shipped to Logan, 
Ohio, and the clocks to Fort Wayne, Indiana, and then 
began my sight of the great city. It was all that my 
reader may imagine that such a splendid exhibition of 
the powers of man could be to a soul all earnestness to 
find the facts of the world in which he lived. 

On the steamboat Empire I took passage, on the 19th 
day of May, for Albany. She was of fine timber, great 
capacity, and in all a beautiful ship. My eyes lingered 
long upon the coast, as through the river "we cut our 
liquid road." Oh, had we known the disaster which 
hung over and before us, and the doom of men and 
women who partook with us in the common sentiments 
which characterize even so short a voyage as this ! — if 
we had seen the skirts of death floating in the Bay be- 
yond us, we had lingered near and upon the shore still 
more tenderly and with yet deeper feelings of regret. 

No description can be given of what occurred upon 
the peaceful bosom of that Bay of Newburgh. No 
pen can record the throbbings of any heart. No defin- 
ition can include or even apprehend the woe which 
sweeps over human nature when life falls like a star 
from its place in the skies. 

Life has such deep emotions, touches such eternal 
territory, has to do with such thrilling facts, that he who 
sees it when its own existence is in danger, sees it in 
its most terrible phase, and can divine its subtle forces. 
Such a revelation as I then witnessed held all these ele- 



38 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

ments ; but so personal was it to myself, so frightful, in 
and of themselves, were the scenes which followed, that 
instead of what psychological analysis might have gained, 
I received confused but none the less real and awful im- 
pressions. 

Night, dark as blackness itself, had settled down 
upon the river. Over its surface we seemed to glide 
from darkness into darkness. Silence, profound and 
half- sweet, had lulled the passengers to sleep. Caught 
with the novelty and pleasure, alone, I paced the deck 
and lived life over again in my thought. Ever and anon 
came the faint sound of the low-pressure engine. Sleep, 
dreams of home, visions of beauty, the march of private 
cares through these sleeping brains — all these beneath, 
and soft dark silence covering the world, like a robe let 
down from above. 

A staggering heavy thud that the waves could not 
hold amid their secrets ! A rush of waves ! plash ! 
plash ! and we stop the course of eighteen miles an 
hour. It is an ominous, awful halt. The alarm-bell 
sounds its dread despair. Shrieks from the awakened 
passengers almost drown in volume the noise of aggress- 
ive waves. In that terrible counterpoise of motions — 
it is all seen in the lurid glare of breaking lamps! The 
Noah Brown has run into us ! The Empire is sinking ! 
"Help!" "Help!" "Help!" "Oh God!" "Save 
me!" "My child!" Agonies deep as the human 
soul ring their groans through that dark and dreadful 
sky to heaven. Heavily loaded with lumber, the Noah 
Brown has struck our death-blow, and that swift breeze 
has driven her, like an arrow, into the heart of the Em- 
pire. I rushed upon the hurricane deck, seized a plank, 
determined to stand and help unto the last, and then 
save myself if I could. Just then the schooner pitched 
forward. I rushed to her, jumped on board, and in that 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 39 

act stepped from death to life. The Empire gurgled her 
death groan. Hearts rent with fear, souls torn with 
agony, cheeks white with terror, expressing the deep 
and volcanic feelings which also made the whole air a 
sob, and the world a tear, as the yells of the doomed, 
the piteous pleadings of the drowning, the gasping 
prayers of the lost, saluted our ears. 

Just then, when the Empire had sunk so low that 
her hurricane-deck touched the water's edge, just then, 
like the hand of heaven, came the Rip Van Winkle, 
and many were saved; but as we moved out of sight, I 
saw the record of the unsaved ; I thought of the broken 
homes, the wretched firesides, the wounded and grief- 
stricken souls which would never see, but would always 
partake in that billowy, foaming grave we left behind us. 

We reached Albany. No glorified structure could 
possess my soul, else the state-house there would have 
displaced in my mind, for the time being, that awful 
wreck. We passed through the luxuriant Mohawk 
Valley. Rochester, with all its stately beauty, 
pleased me. Alone of the survivors of the Empire, 
did I take passage on the Baltic for Cleveland. An- 
other dreadful experience of mind was mine when the 
Baltic, struck with a propeller, staggered in its watery 
path. I was excited beyond thought, and only saw the 
bow broken, the guard torn, and heard the deafening 
crash. I was only satisfied when I learned that the 
boat was substantially unharmed, and after the delay of 
inspection, saw speeding toward Cleveland, our imper- 
iled craft. 

The beautiful city was reached at three o'clock, but 
in a very unhappy condition was I to enter any city, 
and indeed to exist upon the face of a planet, where 
people charged for lodging and board, where stage- 
drivers anxiously looked for the fare. 



4-0 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Never before was I so anxious to try the New Testa- 
ment plan of travel. Never since have I felt the em- 
barrassment I felt through that weary route. The fact 
was, I was only possessed of twenty-five cents, and a 
three dollar bill, which bill was a lie of the deepest sig- 
nificance to me, since it was a counterfeit bill. Some 
vandal, seeing an amount of ignorance proportioned 
to my anxiety to get home, had put that note upon 
me, and it was just then a more serious problem than 
the sinking of the Empire. 

According to the landlord where I slept, the night's 
rest was worth forty cents, while I had only twenty- five. 
My story was told with such earnestness and truth, 
that I had no difficulty in getting- him to take the last 
named sum for my debt. I was then loose in the 
world, far from home, and possessed of three dollars in 
bad money. I had reached Wooster. My heart was 
heavy. My clothes were dirty enough. I had noth- 
ing but that horrible story, and my uncleaned garments, 
to recommend me. But I met there, what was more 
than money to me ; men of broad shouldered, working 
charity — a kind so very rare — of great and aggressive 
kindness, which does not appear largely in census re- 
ports ; — men who gave me an opportunity to get to my 
home. The internal experience of that visit at the kind 
invitation of Mr. Jacobs to his own home, the mental 
life which silently executed itself as I changed my 
rusty garment for a clean one, the unseen throbbings of 
gratitude, when after I had started on foot to Zanesville, 
was seized by the hand of a true friend and noble- 
man, J. H. McBride, and made to remain all night, and 
then set out when morning came with ample funds — all 
that I felt could not but flow in tears, and to-day it 
moves my heart. To those men I owed my trip to my 
home, by way of Zanesville, and their kindness, but 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 41 

when I see life in its issues and know how the des- 
tinies are lodged in the smallest acts and occurrences, I 
feel that the debt can never be paid, and that it is a 
privilege to be forever grateful. 

In a short time after I returned home, I attacked the 
whole county with my books. I had been born full of 
energy. I had learned pertinacity and earnestness. 
I now had lately added to my stock in trade, some ex- 
perience and enthusiasm born and nurtured by seeing 
the enthusiasm of others. 

When I approached the subject, the people plead 
"cholera;" and it was a place that had pathetic per- 
suasiveness in its tones. People were dying by hund- 
reds, and the whole country was frightened. Yet, in 
spite of the fact that many suggested that the death- 
angel would prevent their reading my books, and others 
pleaded indifference and woe, I sold them in a few days, 
and out of regard to my clocks and the people of Indi- 
ana, I started to effect their sale at Fort Wayne. What 
Northern Indiana was at that time, I have thought to 
leave to the pen of Edward Eggleston. I only have to 
say, that the " Hoosier School-master" seems to me to 
be a story true in conception and in detail. There is a 
depth of suggestion in that word Hoosier, which express- 
es it all. They gazed upon my clocks with stupendous 
surprise. I could have told them that they controlled 
the times and seasons with perfect safety. I encoun- 
tered clock peddlers of all degrees of veracity, honesty 
and rascality, and never have been so impressed with 
the total depravity of that section of the human race 
as when I became one of them, not in spirit nor in letter, 
but as a miracle of grace and of truth, trying to sell an 
honest clock as an honest man. Human genius cannot 
be sounded by the critic of Angelo, Raphael and Tur- 
ner. Ruskin never met an Indiana clock peddler. No 
5 



42 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

idea of the gigantic strength of the imagination of man 
can be gained by an elaborate study of Shakespeare, 
Milton and Dante. Macaulay never heard a clock ped- 
dler describe the unseen glories of his wares. Only the 
faintest conception of the politician can be reached by 
a view of Talleyrand, Michiavelli, and Beaconsfield. 
Evidently Froude never saw displayed the tactics of a 
clock peddler in Indiana, when before an entranced 
band of Hoosiers, he sought to establish the claims of 
that marvelous machine. I, who followed in their wake, 
and tried to do with truth and reason what they attempt- 
ed by poetry and imagination — I, who wished I too had 
genius oftentimes, shall not forget how at that juncture 
in my life my idea of the abilities of my brother-man 
suddenly received an amazing enlargement. 

I well knew that there was no use to attempt imita- 
tion. I loved honesty also, and tried to sell good clocks 
for good prices, and succeeded where my brilliant com- 
petitors failed. There may be a suggestion in my story 
of the proverbial man who told his boys, when. they left 
home to seize life for themselves : " Now, boys, honesty 
is the best policy; I tell you so, I have tried both." But 
I assure my readers that I had respect to conscience ; I 
never could make myself believe that man could enjoy 
any sort of success, who carried a burning conscience. I 
have always had a greater fear of the hells inside than 
those outside. I have always valued manhood as more 
than circumstances. The man who shall think himself 
transformed by a change of circumstances, has mistaken 
the whole nature of things. He who is pure within will 
see light in darkness. He who is impure within, even 
if he were to sit forever amid heaven's purity, with white 
robes, with a song whose tones were purity itself in his 
mouth, must feel, as he looks within, the gigantic dif- 
ference and his heaven would be perdition itself. He 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 43 

who preserves his manhood will be preserved. He who 
keeps heaven in him, can not wander out through the 
golden gate. 

The clocks were sold, and I was at home in Novem- 
ber. As I came by way of Lancaster, I there made 
what was to me a most magnificent purchase, of one 
hundred and eighty-two acres of land, lying in Star 
Township, Hocking County, Ohio. For three years I 
had been watching the destiny of the land ; and with 
all the earnest feeling one may experience who loves a 
home, and a home of his own, I took possession of it. 

To my half-brother, Mr. Isaac Casey, I was glad to 
give eighty acres of it. While I had been rewarded 
with the gratitude of all concerned, and with the praise 
of his neighbors and my own friends, the satisfaction 
that came to me, as in experience I learned the depth 
of this sentiment; " It is more blessed to give than to 
receive," has been more than all. 

At this point there begins a chapter of my experi- 
ence which has given me some amusement, and some 
cause to think that I then possessed an audacity of 
which I cannot now feel myself conscious. Faith is as 
practical as it is pious, though none the less practical 
because a sentiment of religion. I believe that a con- 
quering faith in the world, in one's self, in the value of 
life, is one of the prerequisites, the necessities of suc- 
cess. Faith is capital. He who seeks to take the 
world without it will be taken by the world with it. Its 
audacity will be honorable and invincible, and its con- 
quests are everywhere. The boy who doubts if he can 
walk a foot log across a stream, is almost sure to fail and 
fall in, and experience has taught me, that a man can 
buy instruments and take pictures with little else but a 
working faith in himself and in his enterprise. 

This is the story. In December, 1849, Dr. H. Jack- 



44 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

son amazed my awkwardness, by suggesting that I go 
into the " daguerreotype business," as it was termed. 
The proposition that I should become a master of art 
was to me, and is yet a miracle. My sensibilities were 
as well suited to the work proposed, as Johnson's mind 
was to the material of his own poetry, as the soul of 
Mme. DeStael to the Bay of Naples. Art was to me a 
palace with closed doors. The country was, however, 
excited over the possibilities of preserving the human 
feature, and I was convinced that some fellow who had 
no more of the art instinct than myself, would astonish 
the natives with their pictures, and himself with their 
money. In January, 1850, I learned that if a man would 
settle in Arkansas, he might become monarch of all he 
surveyed. "Land" was my cry, like the gasp of a 
sinking ocean-ranger. Without a thought of the value 
of it, and of the terrible fate of a man who must live in 
such a place, I started for this place of "land." Upon 
my forehead was written "land ahead," and the ten- 
dency must have been so strongly expressed, as to give 
every one the impression that I was bound for the West. 

Arriving at Cincinnati, I was not burdened with means, 
and the fertile thought of my "red paint," which had 
grown such rich harvests already, touched me again. 
Soon I was at the house of Springman & Son, and found 
ideas larger and quite as valuable to me as my paint. 
The condition of Arkansas was described, and with con- 
siderable discomfiture, I went away. 

"How about the daguerreotype business?" I thought. 

I rushed to the first artist I could find, and was greet- 
ed in such a fashion that I should have deemed myself 
honored to become a member of his fraternity. I asked 
him for prices. 

" How much do the things come at?" 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 45 

"Well, they come at different prices ; they are high, 
and low, and medium." 

" I do'nt want a costly one," said I, "and, to tell the 
truth, I don't see how I can get any." 

' ' You can't get much of a one for less than a hundred 
dollars. I guess that is the lowest." 

" Wher'll I get one ; I don't know where they sell 
'em," said I, perfectly amazed at the price, and feeling 
myself never so poor. I put on my hat and went to 
Peter Smith's, and with only forty dollars, here I was 
left — sick of the Arkansas idea, and ashamed of my 
funds as in contrast with the value of an instrument. 

I stammered and asked foolish questions. I had no 
idea whether what I saw standing there on legs was an 
" instrument " for this business or a guillotine. But my 
faith had increased, and I asked questions until I was 
pretty certain that the institution he had offered me with 
all the paraphernalia and necessities to run it, was that 
identical machine standing before me. But "eighty 
dollars," (for that was his reduced price) — thought I. 
" Forty is my all." I explained the poverty which 
like leprosy clung to me. I told a long, honest, and it 
must have been a funny story. He took in the situa- 
tion. We talked about Arkansas, then " about time on 
the balance." I told him an incident, and he asked 
me, " How much can you pay down ?" I had a cough, 
and managed to expel a very poor story from my lips, 
which were dry with the state of things, and then said, 
like a half sick lover to his own ; "about thirty-five dol- 
lars." 

There was no trade. I appreciated his feelings, and I 
guess he did mine. Sixty dollars were necessary, and 
the hope of it had no soil upon which to grow. 

That omnipresent "red paint" again stood in seried 
ranks of kegs before my mind. I had faith, but more 



46 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

in Springman & Son, than in the il paint" itself. I 
dodged the sight of the paint, but hunted the gentleman 
in control. That long story was told, and covered with 
the enthusiasm I had, but as straight as truth. The 
" truth prevailed." 

"You shall not want the money," were the magic 
words that had no sooner left Springman's mouth than 
my heart fluttered ; dreams of great galleries of pictures 
fastened upon my eyes, and that instrument seemed 
mine. 

To Peter Smith the story was told. A package of 
drugs and chemicals, and that instrument were mine. 
The way to my home was longer than ever, and if the 
vision had been granted me of the ignorant questions 
which were to descend upon me, like the Goths upon 
Rome, I fear I would have refused to follow it. 

But the machine and its equipments were no more 
marvelous to them than to me. I had seen New York 
City and the mountains, but they did not seem so 
problematic as the newly purchased possession. I 
could not clearly see its beauty, and was altogether un- 
decided about its uses. The application of the drugs 
was even beyond this, as a deep question. I attempted 
explanation, and between the desire to say nothing that 
would expose the secret and my utter ignorance as to 
what the secret really was, the explanation must have 
been exceedingly elaborate, trustworthy and clear. 
When quiet reigned and silence came, I would quietly 
examine the machine myself. I never dared unscrew 
the parts or pull the joints, inasmuch as I might dislo- 
cate the affair beyond my remedies, and I was, so far 
as this genus was concerned, the only doctor in the 
country. I could see the use of this, if it were detached 
and in use in the harvest field. I could understand the 
use of that, if it were only on different legs and made the 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 47 

other side to. But that thing as a whole, so long legged, 
one eyed, and small bodied, came into my imagination 
and reason like a sea into a tin cup ; it was in and of 
itself, literally incomprehensible. 

And: then how the machine took pictures ; where the 
subject or object stood, or walked, or sat ; what the 
artist had to do ; and the precise relationship of these 
horribly scented drugs to the whole enterprise — all these 
added to the problem. I, however, found that my 
drugs smelled like the office of my first artist friend, 
and with that whiff of air, a solid satisfaction overcame 
my fears, and I went to Zanesville to find the secret. 

At Zanesville, I found a man who had as much au- 
dacity to display as I had already shown to my own 
neighborhood. Very soon I got all he knew, which 
was very little. But I had magnified his services to me, 
in supposing that I understood the entire fragment he 
gave of what I ought to have known. If I had pos- 
sessed one grain less of faith in myself and in the ability 
of the machine to work of its own accord, and in spite 
of itself, I never would have allowed that first subject 
to look toward the instrument. 

One occurrence will illustrate my own ignorance. 

When I looked over my outfit and counted the drugs, 
I recollected their names, and felt secure that what I 
had were all right; but a lingering memory of Iodine 
had asserted itself, and with these alone I could not 
make pictures entirely satisfactory to myself, even 
though the town was loud in my praise. Around the 
bottle of bromine, sea-sand had been packed, and I 
leaped to the conclusion one day: " Why, what a fool 
I have been; this is the Iodine." So, at the proper 
time, in the history of the genesis of a picture — heaven 
will forgive the pun I have made so many times — I 
passed the whole performance over this sea-sand with 



48 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

with what must have been wonderful but totally invisi- 
ble effects. Solemnly have I stood, half doubting, and 
yet not daring to doubt, the use of the Iodine, just like 
a man when he has seen the nonsense of some idea asso- 
ciated with religion, which he feels it sacrilege to ques- 
tion. But I did not see the influence of that Iodine, yet 
I hung out my card, and told many whom I thought 
ought to have been ashamed of their ignorance, that 
that was Iodine, and one of the necessities of the art. 
By that time I could say "Art" with an astonishing 
liquidness of utterance, which gave the idea that I was 
its king and lord. 

Great questions presented themselves — yet none so 
great as the running of that institution. Why would 
certain people desire their pictures ? What a joke to 
inflict upon posterity, was it that certain men and wo- 
men, with faces of a decidedly Gothic architecture, per- 
sisted in having their features for the ages ? Whether 
that country will forgive my perpetuating those faces, I 
do not know. Women would gaze with rapture upon 
the homeliest portraits I have ever seen. The joy 
seemed to come in inverse proportion to the beauty. 
Once in a while a fellow would see himself as others saw 
him, and gladly take one and pledge himself, as he left 
the hall, never to return. All sorts of fun came to my 
lot. The " Aurora Borealis " had lately received some 
public mention, and some people had mixed it with my 
" Camera Obscura," as the old lady cried out, " E pluri- 
bus iinum and terra ftrma" when she was taught to say, 
as she entered the room, " Veni, Vidi, Vici" I had 
heard of the man who thought it was dangerous and 
might "go off," but I want to tell my readers of a near- 
sighted woman who persisted in moving her chair near 
to the instrument, and when the artist remonstrated and 
begged her to go back, and then had to ask her : 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 49 

" Why do you persist in worrying my life out? Sit 
where I place you. Why do you get near?" 

" Why," responded the old lady, " I must git where 
I kin see the ' Aurory.' I reckon it can see to take me 
farther 'n I kin." 

One beautiful recollection which had its rise as I went 
down the river, must be chronicled. 

While we were going from shore, and out into the 
stream, a dignified presence fastened my attention. 
There stood upon that boat a man whose personal fol- 
lowing was perhaps as affectionate as it was large, and 
as devoted to him as it was earnest for the principles 
their leader advocated. No man who ever looked into 
that pleasant face, heard the sweet symphonies of that 
magic voice, and felt the inexpressible charm of that 
magnetic personality, can forget the earthly lineaments 
of this spirit divine. I was caught immediately by that 
form and its genius, 

" A combination and a form indeed, 
Where every god did seem to set his seal 
To give the world assurance of a man." 

Tall and agile, his head is borne upon magnificent 
but gracefully shapen shoulders. His step is soft, yet 
majestic. His wnole nature expresses itself in that self- 
poised and benignant carriage ; his entire character writes 
its soliloquy in that finest dignity, the weighty values 
of which he was in conscious control, and which filled 
him with an unconscious sublimity. Eyes like the soft 
and spirit-like windows to the brain of a gazelle ; a fore- 
head, on which might have been written the constitu- 
tion, and behind which blazed the fires of thought ; a 
mouth, holding the words of destiny ; now like a casket 
of kindness ; then, like a ledge of stone behind which 
justice was held; all these, filled until they trembled 
with divine enthusiasm, had a tenfold significance when 
6 



50 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

rising to its full height that splendid figure became a 
voice t a net-work of countless melodies ; a tone woven of 
harmonies, and, before an adoring populace gathered 
upon the river bank, sounding forth the deepest princi- 
ples of civilization and the loftiest ideals of human gov- 
ernment. It was the presence, personality and speech 
of that popular leader, Henry Clay. 

He was en route from Washington. It was before 
the statesman had been retired for the captain. Taylor 
had not yet vanquished him in honors. It was in fact 
during that great campaign ; and while the people would 
hear him, and desired to hear personal self-defense. It 
remains a scene in my memory, touched with moral 
heroism, for Henry Clay preached to them the ideal to- 
ward which he fondly desired the nation to march. 

Description of Clay's eloquence belongs to no pen. 
All serious attempt to compass the task and accurately 
portray the spiritual in him upon the material, and 
through the material to the spiritual in his audience, are 
cherished and yet must be called failures. Not even an 
effort in that direction will be made here. If to other 
pictures anything may be added from these mixed hues, 
I shall be thankful ; and because, no man can fully real- 
ize the greatness of his kind, who has not seen such 
matchless illustrations in their sublime moments. 

I remember above all, one short address. There he 
stood. His whole bearing added rays of glory to the 
idea I had of a man. He filled Shakespeare's defini- 
tion full to overflowing. 

Behind that man was history enough to make him 
seem an embodied message from the skies. The " Mill- 
boy of the Slashes," his early poverty, his record as a 
lawyer, his treatment of the " alien and sedition laws," 
his silencing the tongue of slander, his advocacy of do- 
mestic interests, his war speech, his relations with Jack- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 51 

son, his championship of whig - principles, his vote for 
John Q. Adams, the defense he had made, his whole life 
— these with just enough mistakes, with just enough 
forgetfulness of right, with just enough affection for the 
expedient to make it like a fleecy cloud, which, all bap- 
tized in light became fringed with gold as his thought 
came in music and fell upon those living souls. He 
stood like a rock-ribbed coast, against this idea and that 
notion of political policy. He fell like a sunbeam upon 
this struggling conception of national progress to woo 
it into life. He thundered like Niagara against wrong. 
He stretched great loving benediction over the militant 
but not yet triumphant right, and as the boat moved 
away he became a warm and genial light, to make all 
who came near him feel the value of genius with its 
great ideas, and a sublime nature. 

" With its droppings of tears, 
And its touches of things common, 
'Till they rise to touch the spheres." 



CHAPTER IV. 



IF ever there was an itinerant, I was that man. One 
week without taking a picture, almost persuaded me 
to leave New Plymouth ; but I determined on another 
plan, and this gave me more time with this people whom 
I did not love, even as they did not love me. They 
made fun of me and my pictures, and I confess, either 
because I had utterly no interest in the subject, or be- 
cause I was afraid, I did not and never shall investigate 
their grounds of ridicule. 

My ignorance of the use of the forces I did not have 
under my control grew with my growth and strength- 
ened with my strength, as an artist. At McArthur I 
was amazed at myself. I began to have no doubts 
about my genius ; for as I saw the result, and knew how 
small my information was, I was forced to the conclu- 
sion that my abilities must be of a gigantic species. 
But even here I was glad to sell my instrument. I sold 
it to G. W. Pilcher, whom I could not violently love, 
inasmuch as his finesse was even greater than his egot- 
ism, leaving me sadly defeated at what was then almost 
a financial Waterloo. 

Speaking of egotism, and in connection with this 
name, I am reminded of a clerical gentleman by that 
name, whose self-conceit was only equaled by his good- 
ness and truth. Yet once in a while his egotism would 
overtop all else, and the resulting scene often was excru- 
ciating or ridiculous. Once he was preaching at Dela- 
ware, Ohio, before an audience of culture, wealth and 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 53 

refinement. Many sceptics sat in the congregation. 
The occasion was one of which much account was made, 
since Bishop Thomson — that most gentle and persuasive 
of pulpit orators — had been expected to preach, and on 
account of poor health had been compelled to ask Bro. 
Pilcher to preach in his stead. Now, any other man 
would have refused. Any other man but Henry Pilch- 
er would have been all mellow with feeling, and weight- 
ed with the great occasion. Not so, Pilcher. He 
tossed his head like a hero. Thomson sat behind him 
as he arose to speak. With all conceivable pomposity, 
he announced his text. "The Lord help," quietly, 
gently, and as a brother, said the great Bishop. Rising 
to his full height, inflated until he stood the very embod- 
iement of self-conceit, Pilcher said in a fine but squeaky 
voice, expressing its tones from out distended cheeks 
and under raised eyebrows : "I — I thank you, yes, I 
thank you, Bishop. It is a kind prayer. But I — (a 
cough) — I feel entirely capable for this topic without any 
foreign aid." I have always thought that this occur- 
rence needed no commentary. It is the scripture of 
egotism in object-lesson. 

Chills and fever attacked me after my sale. These I 
passed triumphantly. I heard that at Logan there was 
a regular and very fine artist, and started in that direc- 
tion. I knew that I did not know it all, but I after- 
wards found that I did not begin to see the depths of 
ignorance as others who had names which were known 
far and wide. I entered this great artist's studio and 
place of operations, with all the humility I could master. 
Impressed with my gorgeous littleness as an artist, I 
looked up into sublime altitudes of art-intelligence to 
find my great contemporary. When I began to speak, 
I was met with ridicule. I walked about the establish- 
ment, and saw pictures which did not justify his making 



54 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

any sort of fun. I knew I could make finer work than 
any on exhibition there. Such a storm of abuse I have 
not received — a storm like a fall rain, so pertinacious, 
so irritating with mildness — and to it all, I then and 
there resolved to respond. 

I rented a room on the opposite corner. I secured a 
good outfit. I charged my pictures with all the sense 
and experience I had. Ladies thronged my gallery. I 
put incessant work upon every detail. The first gentle- 
men of the town came and sat for work. I resolved to 
let honesty and hard work do what they could, and they 
administered to him a rebuke he could not forget. 

My " sensitive" became most ungovernable. My 
pictures began to lack clearness and lustre. I heard 
that a good artist lived in Athens, and although I had 
had my faith severely tried, yet I wended a weary way 
to Athens, and that for the purpose of getting inform- 
ation. I arrived and saluted him as a pupil, not men- 
tioning this most humiliating fact. I have not been 
more royally treated. He went to all trouble, and gave 
me a feeling of pleasure, which one who has been made 
" at home" knows and appreciates. In the morning he 
told me what seemed a most pitiful story. He detailed 
his failures, until his story was an Iliad of woes. He 
had not taken a picture for several days. He had put 
all his multiplying customers into an expectant frame 
of mind, when he said he could not serve them, by 
promising also that an experienced and first-class artist 
would be in town soon. Who he was to be, he never 
could tell. And now he sat with great smiles on his 
face, and clapping his hands, he said: "You 're the 
man." 

I protested as much as I could without showing abso- 
lute ignorance, and resolved to bear the burden. He 
escorted me down to the gallery. He introduced me as 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 55 

a great artist. As well might a tombstone cutter be 
called Phidias. I walked up to the situation. I entered 
the room and said, " Now you let me look around, and 
see your methods and chemicals." This I did to save 
myself from exposure. I told him I was not a first-class 
artist, but I did not tell him that I had come to learn of 
him. I entered the dark room, and there in a bottle, 
labeled by Peter Smith, I found the word ''Iodine." 
"By George," thought I, "it aint like mine; mine is 
dry and like sand. It is sand, sure as heaven." I 
mused and then thought of the laughable figure I had 
cut, and then after laughing for a time at the sea-sand 
Iodine, I swore never to tell the story. Reader, your 
smile is the first. 

"Now," said I, " Let us try the thing. Sit down." 
A picture, bright as morning ! another, and another, 
and the man worshiped my stupendous genius and great 
erudition. He wanted to pay me, pleaded to do it, but 
I could not charge for my ignorance. Yet I very gladly 
remarked — and little did he know of the genesis of the 
idea — that when I left, I would take some Iodine. His 
customers returned. His popularity grew, and I found 
out the difference between sea-sand and Iodine. 

I sold my outfit, bought a new one, sent it before me 
and found myself in Parkersburg, W. Va. If I had 
taken a catalogue of towns and selected the one least 
suited to my business, I could not have escaped Park- 
ersburg. The dashing of the Little Kanawha had no 
prospects of bliss or poetry in store for an artist. The 
town received me as gracefully as I could expect, having 
once -seen the elements which entered into its life. It 
was to a new comer, like Charles Lamb's cold spring, 
with a warm day : 

" Unmeaning joy around appears, 

And nature smiles as though she sneers." 



$6 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

To Harrisonville, Point Pleasant, Buffalo, Va. , Middle - 
port, Nelsonville and Pomeroy, with competition the 
most lively, meeting men of all shades of character, 
fortunes, and prospects, through one fire and much gain 
and loss, teaching others my art, — I closed for a time 
this line of work in Ross County, at Adelphi, and Tarl- 
ton, with a deeper love of truth, and a more profound 
hatred of wrong, a larger idea of the value of life, and 
a truer perception of a source of inspiration than I had 
ever had before. 

He who sees only the perishable and loves it, proves 
his mortality and seals it. He who fastens to the undy- 
ing and swears allegiance to it, declares his personal 
character and proves his own individuality. There is 
more in honesty than the "best policy," as there is 
more in life than breath and existence. 

" And ever something is or seems 
That touches us with mystic gleams 
Like glimpses of forgotten dreams." 

In every choice of personal honor rather than and at 
the expense of circumstantial glory, a man touches the 
beyond. He consults the everlasting and the permanent. 
He may seem defeated, but his defeat is the seed which 
shall bear flowers of immortal victory. He seems to be 
lost in darkness, he shall emerge in light. The word of 
a hero at the issues of life, as well as at the issue of 
death, is Browning's most imposing strain : 

" Though I stoop 
Into a dark, tremendous sea of cloud, 
It is but for a time, I press God's lamp 
Close to my breast; its splendor, soon or late, . 

Will pierce thy gloom; I shall emerge some time." 

We do not appreciate the forces of the life that now 
is. We would find that they were fastened to the throne, 
if our sight were strong. The world's business is run 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 57 

on honesty, truth and righteousness. They are higher 
than expediency, policy and neutrality ; and he who 
feels their force has shown the realm to which he be- 
longs. There is a " sweet by and by" to any body to 
whom there is a grand "here and nozv" 

" Here sits he shaping wings to fly 
His heart forebodes the mystery • 
He names the name eternity." 

I went to Decatur, Indiana, to find that people who 
thought I had concluded not to come for the pay for 
my clocks were not prepared to pay, and I made happy 
a lawyer who took the claims. 

November 15, and I have set up, for a second time, 
a gallery in Logan. I visited that historic New Ply- 
mouth. I thought of my Iodine and enjoyed the growth 
of the country. To Pomeroy, McArthur and Cincin- 
nati, with a new stock of necessities, I went down the 
river to a somewhere I knew not of. 

I was glad to arrive at North Bend. This was the 
burial place of that political favorite, Wm. Henry Har- 
rison, ex-President of the Nation he did so much to re- 
deem from barbarism and England's tyranny. The 
house which he once occupied is a plain country farm- 
house. His grave is a vault of brick, on a beautiful 
hillock, in full view of the river. 

Here the hero of Tippecanoe lived the solitary life, 
out of which the statesman and political leader came 
forth, caparisoned for the leadership of that great party, 
and the championship of such great ideas. 

Harrison's home reminds one of that great man. He 
was beyond many of his peers as a politician. He was 
greater than most of his contemporaries as a thinker. 
His was a mind, which in advance of those about him, 
could fly aloft and see the landscape of the past, present 
and future. He was a statesman of remarkable forces 
7 



58 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

of strength. He was a general which knew no hardship, 
was conscious of no cowardice, and moved into true 
patriotism, was exiled by the devotion of such great 
abilities from defeat. But greater than the general, 
statesman, thinker, and politician, was the personality 
which towered above them, and spoke through them. 
A giant in them all, he was a monarch as a man. 

This was the chord which the people struck, and 
which yielded such music that he became President of 
their nation. They admired the gigantic mind, the 
iron logic, the swift, and almost universal gaze, the 
mighty intellectual tread of Daniel Webster. The 
silvery eloquence of Henry Clay, sending into the 
abysmal depths of the country's soul that announce- 
ment, "I had rather be right than President," roused 
their affectionate esteem. The metaphysical insight, 
the colossal argument, the fierce invective of John Cal- 
houn bended them to his clarion voice. The laurels 
which pressed heavily upon the head of Scott were of 
evergreen, and flowers which the grateful dews of the 
whole American sky would keep fresh forever. They 
were all there ; but William Henry Harrison was a 
thorough, duty -loving, incorruptible man, and the 
people placed manhood in the chief-seat of modern 
times. 

His name made "hard cider" a phrase of inspiration 
like the peal of a trumpet. ''Log cabins" were more 
popular than thrones, and when he fell in one month, 
having satisfied the people by the selection of his Cabi- 
net that he sought to be "chief" by being "the servant 
of all" they buried his body here, and his memory in 
their hearts. 

Harrison had many of the popular qualities of our 
own later Ohio leaders — Thomas Corwin. I recollect of 
him, however, as an orator, rather than a leader of a 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 59 

great party. I heard him but once. It was at Colum- 
bus, Ohio, while there with one of my friends. 

Said I to my friend : 

' ' Let us go and hear Tom Corwin. " Shouts of ' ' The 
Wagoner Boy" rent the air, which was full of hurrahs 
and greetings. 

We found our way with and through the crowd — a 
crowd whose tumult knew no bounds. There was a 
certain heartiness in this tumult which was especially 
perceptible. On that whole vast surge of people was 
the feeling that Tom Corwin meant honesty and bold- 
ness, and that his splendid audacity was the audacity of 
genius and of the unyielding nature of Right. The 
City of Columbus had been the witness of that large 
convocation of his supporters. The enthusiasm of that 
day knew no bounds. It was fired by an eloquence 
scarcely less than that of Corwin. When a speaker re- 
counted the efforts of his life, and the audience were 
ready, the following words swept into shouts of ap- 
plause : "When the brave Harrison and his gallant 
army were exposed to the dangers and hardships of the 
northwestern frontier, separated from the interior, on 
which they were dependent for their supplies, by the 
brushwood and swamps of St. Mary's country, through 
which there was no road, where each wagoner had to 
make his way wherever he could find a passable place, 
leaving traces and routes which are still visible for a 
space of several days' journey in length, there was one 
team managed by a little, dark-complexioned, hardy- 
looking lad, apparently about fifteen or eighteen years 
old, who was familiarly called Tom Corwin. Through 
all that service he proved himself a good whip and an 
excellent reinsman. And in the situation in which we 
are about to place him, he will be found equally skillful." 

All this old feeling came upon the multitude. Some 



60 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

even remembered the old song of that great canvass, 
and one fellow struck up the first verse in pristine melody: 

" Success to you, Tom Corwin ! 

Tom Corwin, our true hearts love you ! 
Ohio has no nobler son, 

In worth there is none above you. 
And she will soon bestow 

On you her highest honor ; 
And then our State will proudly show 

Without a stain upon her." 

To one who knew Corwin, it was not even an ordinary 
occasion. For no man so filled the popular idea of a 
stump-speaker in Ohio as did Thomas Corwin. He was 
above all things, a gentleman. Not in that sense, which, 
dictated by policy, defines every thing else. He was 
not a man who had no opinions, or if he had opinions, 
did not express them. He was not a man who lacked 
strength. His throne was power. He was not a gentle 
man so much as a gentle man. His gentleness was that 
of a large-souled, noble, earnest man. He had the gen- 
tleman hid in the man, in another sense, and that had 
power with men. He was, so far as statesmanship can 
be mentioned, true, and loved the Right. 

Put this behind and let it operate through a great bold 
presence — a full exponent of a rich and strong soul —a 
voice, strong in its tenderness, tender in its strength ; 
an eye, which always meant what the brain behind it 
thought, which would glisten with tears, twinkle with 
humor, burn with sarcasm, scorch with irony, cut like 
a Damascus-blade with wit, beam with hope, shudder in 
gloom with despair and gaze into the secrets of the sev- 
enth heaven with prophecy ; a brain and heart so ac- 
cordant as to discover truth together and love it, which, 
too, knew the depths of pathos, the significance of woe, 
the boundlessness of love, the greatness of truth, the 
absolute regnancy of Justice, the omnipotent powers of 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 6 1 

Right ;— put a most noble man behind these all in most 
noble quantities, and you have Tom Corwin on the 
stump. 

All the versatility which came from these was his. 
His audiences would hiss and applaud, groan and shout, 
yell and keep silent as the stars above them, hurrah and 
weep, laugh and get mad, and all because this magician 
owned the wand which touched them. He would rest 
an audience on fun, then tire it out with argument ; feast 
it on wit, worry it with statistics ; and, in short, fill those 
who heard him with the peculiarities of each, that he 
might control each and all. 

His genius compassed the noble instincts of political 
morality, and the richest humor of the soul ; and, in 
both, he became pre-eminent. When he made that 
great speech in the Senate, he showed in lurid outline 
the hand of Wrong which had been petted by Webster, 
Clay, and others, under the name of Expediency. There 
was, however, no policy but that of eternity in these 
mighty words on 

"unjust national acquisitions." 

Mr. President: — The uneasy desire to augment our 
territory has depraved the moral sense, and blighted 
the otherwise keen sagacity of our people. Sad, very 
sad, are the lessons which time has written for us. 
Through and in them all, I see nothing but the inflexi- 
ble execution of that old law which ordains as eternal, 
the cardinal rule, " thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's 
goods, nor anything which is his." Since I have so 
lately heard so much about the dismemberment of 
Mexico, I have looked back to see how, in the course 
of events, which some call Providence, it has fared with 
other nations, who engaged in this work of dismember- 



62 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

ment. I see that in the latter half of the eighteenth 
century, three powerful nations, Russia, Austria and 
Prussia, united in the dismemberment of Poland. They 
said, too, as you say, "it is our destiny." "They 
wanted room." Doubtless each of these thought with 
his share of Poland, his power was too strong ever to 
fear invasion, or even insult. One had his California, 
another his New Mexico, and the third his Vera Cruz. 
Did they remain untouched, and incapable of harm? 
Alas ! no — far, very far from it. Retributive justice 
must fulfill its destiny too. 

A very few years pass off, and we hear of a new man, 
a Corsican lieutenant, the self-named ' ' armed soldier of 
Democracy," Napoleon. He ravages Austria, covers 
her land with blood, drives the northern Caesar from his 
capitol, and sleeps in his palace. Austria may now re- 
member how her power trampled upon Poland. Did 
she not pay dearly, very dearly for her California? 
But has Prussia no atonement to make? You see the 
same Napoleon, the blind instrument of Providence at 
work there. The thunders of his cannon at Jena, pro- 
claim the work of retribution for Poland's wrongs ; and 
the successors of the great Frederick, the drill-sergeant 
of Europe, are seen flying across the sandy plains that 
surround their capitol, right glad that they may escape 
captivity and death. But how fares it with the autocrat 
of Russia? Is he secure in his share of the spoils of 
Poland ? No. Suddenly we see, sir, six hundred thou" 
sand armed men marching to Moscow. Does his Vera 
Cruz protect him now ? Far from it. Blood, slaughter, 
and desolation spread abroad over the land ; and finally 
the conflagration of the old commercial metropolis of 
Russia closes the retribution. She must pay for her 
share in the dismemberment of her impotent neighbors. 
Mr. President, a mind more prone to look for the judg- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 63 

ments of Heaven in the doings of men than mine, can- 
not fail in all unjust acquisitions of territory to see the 
Providence of God. 

When Moscow burned, it seemed as if the earth was 
lighted up, that the nations might behold the scene. 
As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved, and 
rolled upward and yet higher, till its flames licked the 
stars, and fired the whole heavens, it did seem as though 
the God of the nations was writing in characters of 
flame on the front of the throne, that doom that shall 
fall upon the weak. And what fortune awaits him, the 
appointed executor of this work when it was all done ? 
He too, conceived the notion that his destiny pointed 
onward to universal dominion. France was too small — 
Europe, he thought, should bow down before him. 
But as soon as this idea takes possession of his soul, he 
too becomes powerless. His terminus must recede too. 
Right then, while he witnesses the humiliation and 
doubtless meditated the subjugation of Russia, He who 
holds the winds in his fists, gathered the snows of the 
north and blew them upon his six hundred thousand 
men. They fled — they froze — they perished. And 
now the mighty Napoleon, who had resolved on uni- 
versal dominion, he too, is summoned to answer for the 
violation of that ancient law — " thou shalt not covet any 
thing which is thy neighbor's. " 

How is the mighty fallen ! He, beneath whose proud 
footstep Europe trembled, he is now an exile at Elba 
and now, finally a prisoner on the rock of St. Helena, 
and then on a barren island in an unfrequented sea, in 
the crater of an extinguished volcano, there is the death- 
bed of the mighty conqueror. All his annexations have 
come to that ! His last hour is now at hand ; and he, 
the man of destiny, he who had rocked the world as 
with the throes of an earthquake, is now powerless, 



64 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

still — even as the beggar, so he dies. On the wings of 
a tempest that raged with unwonted fury, up to the 
throne of the only power that controlled, him while he 
lived, went the fiery soul of that wonderful warrior, 
another witness to the existence of that eternal decree, 
that <4 they who do not rule in righteousness shall perish 
from the earth. He has found "room" at last, and 
France, she too has found "room." Her "eagles" 
now no longer scream along the banks of the Danube, 
the Po, and the Borysthenes. They have returned 
home, to their old aerie, between the Alps, the Rhine, 
and the Pyrenees. So shall it be with yours. You 
may carry them to the loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras ; 
they may wave with insolent triumph in the halls of the 
Montezumas ; the armed men of Mexico may quail be- 
fore them ; but the weakest hand in Mexico, uplifted in 
prayer to the God of Justice, may call down against 
you, a power, in presence of which the iron hearts of 
your warriors shall be turned into ashes. 

When they struck the liberty-loving and anti-slavery 
men of Massachusetts, one, who afterwards became one 
of the chieftains of freedom — Henry Wilson — wrote to 
a friend of Corwin, as follows : 

"The people are delighted with the speech of Cor- 
win. He has touched the popular heart, and the ques- 
tion asked in the cars, streets, houses, and everywhere 
men assemble, is : Have you read Tom Corwin's speech ? 
Its boldness and high moral tone meet the feelings here, 
and the people of New England will respond to it, and 
tens of thousands want to hear more from him. Tell 
him to come out, though, in favor of the Wilmot Pro- 
viso. We all hope and expect it of him. We can give 
him every State in New England if he will take the 
right ground against slavery. How I should like to 
vote for him and some good non-slaveholder for Vice 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 65 

President in 1848. I suppose that Webster, Clayton, 
Mangum, and Crittenden will be against him, for his 
speech was a terrible rebuke to them, and I am much 
mistaken if some of them very readily forget or forgive 
him. Their position is a most disgraceful one." 

Of his wit, Dr. Mansfield, to whom I am indebted 
for this letter, relates this : His first appearance was 
in the Ohio Legislature. Some of the primitive laws 
and institutions still remained in Ohio. Among others, 
the whipping-post still remained, whipping being an old 
New England punishment for small offenders. Some 
member had introduced a bill repealing the whipping 
law. Upon this, a member from Trumbull County, 
rose and said he saw no objection to the whipping-post. 
He always observed that when a man was whipped in 
his State (Connecticut) he immediately left the State. 
Corwin arose and said, that ' ' he knew a great many 
people had come to Ohio from Connecticut, but he 
never knew before the reason for their coming." 

Keener wit never existed than his, and a more true 
humor, which had all the earnestness of his wit, has not 
been found. 

To illustrate this element of humor : The ex-Gov- 
ernor was in Columbus, Ohio, and, filled with thought 
concerning an important suit at law, brushed his way 
along High street. A clergyman, who enjoys any asso- 
ciation which may be obtained between himself and the 
great, walked dignifiedly in front of him, pulling along 
with him interested friends who thought how great must 
the preacher be who could speak to Corwin. He ad- 
dressed Corwin in awfully dignified tones : 

" How do you do, Governor Corwin?" 

"Ah, very well, sir. How — how are you, to-day? 
Ah!" answered the Governor, looking him in the face 
intently. 

8 



66 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

"You do not remember me. I am Rev. , for- 
merly of ." 

"Oh, yes. I remember you then. But," and Cor- 
win's eye twinkled as he looked at him, now half awake 
from his deep thought — "I did n't know but you had 
been translated long ago, and had been gathered to the 
bosom of Beelzebub." 

The preacher grew red-faced and confused. 

"Oh!" said one of the friends, "you mean Abra- 
ham's bosom." 

" Do I ?" earnestly said Corwin. " It makes no dif- 
ference. I knew it was some one of the Patriarchs." 

So my experience ran on — meeting new faces, getting 
new ideas. 

On the road to Jackson from Vicksburg, I saw another 
illustration of the love of authority which possesses 
some men. I had procured a seat in the cars and with 
perfect ease set my face like a flint for my destination. 
By and by the form and shape of egotism, pure and 
simple, came and said: " Ticket 7" Having no ticket I 
offered him paper money, which was "legal tender for 
all debts, public and private." 

"No sir!" said he. "I must have your ticket or 
gold. That 'truck' do n't carry people on this road." 

" It is legal tender," said I. "I offer it to you, as I 
do to my boarding-place, for meals, and to pay other 
debts elsewhere. Now, no nonsense about this thing, 
here is your money." 

"Well, sir, do you hear me?" added he. "Pay me 
your fare or I will put you off." 

He went on getting the tickets, and coming back to 
me often, he threatened and assured me that the ticket, 
which I did not possess, or the gold, must be forthcom- 
ing, or I should be " put off." 

I stopped at Midway, purchased at that place a ticket 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 6? 

for Jackson, with the same "truck" he sneered at, and 
again found my seat. He came, when the train moved 
out, and I handed him the ticket. 

"Sir," said he, "pay me the balance." 

"No sir," said I. "It is my turn now. I offered it 
to you once. By this time you ought to know me. I 
will teach you how to be stubborn." 

I went to Jackson with that ticket, and his ire boiled 
into vehemence. 

Coming back from Jackson, I met the same conductor. 
He seemed more egotistic than ever. I had bought a 
ticket to Vicksburg, and offered it to him. 

"Pay me what you owe me, or I will put you off," 
growled he. 

"No sir," said I, rising in my seat. 

He took my satchel and placed it upon the platform, 
stopped his train, and I said to the gentlemen near us, 
"What is your name ? and yours ?" until all their names 
and addresses were obtained. 

Said I : " Understand and remember, I have and do 
now offer this man my ticket. He proposes to put me 
off. I want you as witnesses; and," added I, looking 
straight at him, "I will have you arrested upon your 
arrival at Vicksburg if you do'nt bring my satchel back." 

The satchel was returned. He was again conquered, 
and we moved on our way, while the "witnesses" 
laughed, and knew that as all egotists are cowards, they 
would not be needed in court. 

A man's greatness is his capacity for goodness and 
his ability to be kind and generous. 

I was desiring to go from Corinth to Columbus, Ky. 
This was for two reasons an attractive route ; Corinth 
was a very unpleasant town, and Columbus, Ky., was 
nearer my home. I never was more anxious to leave 
and go on my way. I went to the clerk and said : 



68 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS. 

1 'Would you please give me a pass to Columbus, 
Ky.?" 

1 'No," thundered he, "you 're too late." 

"Why, I cannot think of not going," said I, earnest- 
ly but mildly, " I am in no fix to stay, I am all packed 
up, and it is necessary that I should go. I did not 
know that" — 

"Well," said he, "we have hours for business, you 
ought to know that." 

"I did not know of it," I answered, "and further, I 
think you could give me the pass as a gentlemanly act, 
without any rules and regulations." 

But he turned his little head — for all such people 
wear number five hats — and told me, in spite of a long ex- 
planation I made of my condition, that I should have 
no pass. Greatness needs no rules. It is the "spirit" 
of business that gives "life," not its "letter." 

On the wharf stood a number of people. Engaged 
in pushing a barrel vigorously, was Gen. MacPherson, 
who was bravery personified. His chivalry was great 
in little things. He was a knight of generosity and 
kindness. 

"Certainly," said he, "you can get a pass," and 
forthwith made it known to the clerk. The gentleman 
conquered the boor.' He gave the pass, gruffly, and 
while I prized the pass itself, I prized more the noble- 
ness that made itself known from a great man, in the 
eyes of the littleness of a very small one. 



CHAPTER V. 



IN this connection, I will mention a visit to the home 
of Zachary Taylor, the seventeenth President of the 
United States. As purely humble as a home could be, 
was this of Taylor. A solitary and only pleasant and 
somewhat small house, on a lofty rise of ground, look- 
ing toward the South — this is the olcl home of the chief- 
tain. I have to note the greatness of Zachary Taylor. 

He was not a great statesman. The idea that Henry 
Clay was retired before him, is not one specially pleas- 
ant to the muse of history. He did not even possess 
in himself the abilities commonly attributed to the poli- 
tician. His friends, and above all, the enemies of his 
great antagonist, managed his election, and made out of 
his splendid career as a general, popular enthusiasm for 
him as a statesman. 

When the clear days shall come, it will be impossible 
thus to make a great people cast aside the fine heroism 
and splendid generalship of ideas for the thunder of 
musketry, the booming of cannon, and the glory of bat- 
tle. A president of a great nation ought to be that 
man who has in his brain the greatest ideas of national 
government. The man who most of all men sees clear- 
ly into the mission of a land, who most of all feels the 
inspirations which blew into the sails that wafted a re- 
public into existence, who forecast the future with ref- 
erence to the deepest and most abiding ideas, who sees 
to put into time the greatest portion of eternity — that 
man ought to be called what he really is — the president. 



JO LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

" Ideas," said Wendell Phillips, " rule the world." And 
when the safety of any country is consulted, the men of 
ideas are in the pilot-house. Let no shoulder-straps 
either make or break the influence of a man. "The 
power of a man in the world," says one of the deepest 
of the thinkers of our time, " is his idea multiplied by 
and projected through his personality." 

But when I speak of his greatness, I do not mean the 
treatment he gave his great office as a general. In this 
he was great. ' ' Give them a little more grape, Captain 
Bragg," said he, at Buena Vista. And with that battle 
he wrote chief on his brow. He obeyed orders like a 
great man. When he was so chagrined at the news 
from Tampico, and was ordered to send the best part of 
his army to Scott, to fall back on Monterey and simply 
defend it, he showed that, as in private life, it takes 
more manhood, oftentimes, to bear than to do. It is 
what a man can suffer as well as what he can achieve that 
makes him worthy his name and blesses the world. 
He was great as a man holding a sword, because the 
weapon was not master. Great, not because blood ran 
in streams, not because men died and he pushed the 
victory on and on, but Zachary Taylor was great at an 
armistice, in a defeat, and in mercy. Greatness is large- 
ness of soul in life and its circumstances. It is not 
greatness of occasion and accident, but personal and of 
the man himself. 

Ask the citizens of his place of residence, as did I, 
upon this occasion, and find out that a man may have 
honor in his own country. Great elsewhere, as a pri- 
vate friend, a noble soul, a kind companion, here he was 
great. He was greater as the president of these private 
affections than as President of the United States. He 
ruled the " spirit" which "took the city," and added 
the larger greatness to the less. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 71 

Two scenes in the life of Taylor have been related ; 
one lies in other words, in history ; the other in the pri- 
vate soul of a woman living near him. 

It was the anniversary-day of Washington's birth. 
The American army was filled with the thought which 
Lowell has so felicitously thrown into deathless poetry : 

Never to see a nation born 

Hath been given to mortal man. 

Unless to those who, on that summer morn. 

Gazed silent when the great Virginian 

Unsheathed the sword whose fatal flash 

Shot union through the incoherent clash 

Of our loose atoms, crystalizing them 

Around a single wills' unpliant stem, 

And making purpose of emotion rash. 

Out of that scabbard sprang, as lrom its womb, 

Nebulous at first, but hardening to a star, 

Through mutual share of sunburst and of gloom 

The common faith that made us what we are. 

General Wool had, in the absence of Taylor, formed 
the line of battle. The battalions of Mexican light in- 
fantry struck march for the heights under General Am- 
pudia. A large howitzer played death upon the left of 
the line. Colonel Marshall secured and held the moun- 
tain-spur. Gorges and ravines began to fill with the 
dead. But in spite of it all, when dark came, upon the 
summits of Sierre Madre and adown its rugged sides, 
the Mexicans stood and Marshall retreated. The night 
passed. 

Dawn came. Beauty and glory, fled from heaven, 
descended upon the great combat. Clear and cloudless 
were the skies. Breezes, soft as angelic feathers, touched 
the aching, fevered brows. Men stood in that glittering 
sunshine, who dreamed not of death in darkness. Swept 
with flooded radiance, the glow of plain, and tree, and 
rock was gorgeous. Grander than all was Taylor, who 
had returned to lead the victory. 

The action began. Ages will never forget the brave 



72 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

maintainance of Marshall, the advance of Santa Anna's 
huge weapons of war, the rapid fire of Washington's 
battery, the pushing of the Mexicans to the feet of those 
heights, and the dismay and death in the ravine. The 
muse of history will chronicle the fire of the second 
Indiana, the wavering Mexican line, the rally of the 
Mexican forces, the awful defeat that looked through 
the eyes of the Americans, as under intense fires they 
fled before their foes. While he writes this, she will 
seize another pen and write the arrival of Taylor from 
Saltillo, the splendid form and noble mien which could 
not arrest for a time death and dismay; the final strug- 
gle that ensued, and the glory that has since come to 
him, who, with less than five thousand men, not five 
hundred of whom were regulars, with fourteen pieces 
of artillery, maintained their position, though it was 
covered with blood, from the breaking until the dying 
light. This was Buena Vista. 

Another story I will relate. It was a common day. 
But since the assertion, "the kingdom of God is within 
you," it was like all, a grand day because of its opportu- 
nities. Night had fallen about the city. Alone paced 
the hero through the cold and storm. Visions of his 
home invited his anxious, rapid step. A shriek, fol- 
lowed by a gurgle, succeeded by a gasp ! The hero 
stops. It is the voice of a human being. Over the 
street, into the darkness, through the storm, into the 
midst of agony, he pushes his hand, kneels to touch 
the forehead, and speaks to hear the secrets of — a suicide. 
She is not dead. She persists in dashing her life away. 
A grandeur than Buena Vista is here. Its hero also has 
come. He entreats. He begs. He touches the fore- 
head again, and when the death-door opens and she 
walks in, and the days of the sadness are gone, little 
children growing up receive, in secret, portions of a Pres- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 73 

ident's salary, and the great world goes on not knowing 
how much greater the Zachary Taylor of that dark lane 
was, than Zachary Taylor of Buena Vista. When I 
think of it, words great as any the author has written, 
come to my mind : 

" No dreary splendors wait our coming 
Where rapt ghost sits from ghost apart ; 
Homeward we go to heaven's thanksgiving, 
The harvest-gathering of the heart." 



CHAPTER VI. 



ELSEWHERE I shall speak of my trip to the South, 
and the observations I then made. 

After my return home, I remained six weeks at the 
town. But I never was idle. 

I cannot take honor to myself for not being idle, in- 
asmuch as work seems to be my natural atmosphere. 
I have no sort of respect for men who sit and gloat over 
their virtues, when those virtues are simply not vices. 
And I have no sort of respect for those people who talk 
eloquently of their achievements, when with all their 
force, they could hardly have avoided them. That man 
is unworthy of much more honor, who, against the bar- 
riers of his non-constitution, forces his way to success. 
Work was inbred with me. 

Effort has been pleasure. It has always been my joy 
to do. And I could not think that I could make a 
greater misrepresentation than to assert that what I did, 
was done with a predisposition to doing nothing. 

There are very many people, who could not avoid 
being sober, because they never had within them that 
earnestness of nature, which is often called the passion 
of a drunkard. 

There are very many men, whose piety, likewise, is 
an indigenous plant. I am accustomed to award glory 
to those men, who have overcome peculiarities of a na- 
ture, which at their full flood, might have driven them 
to ruin. 

Let not my reader think that my constant effort was 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 75 

altogether a matter of my own will, and purpose, and 
struggle. Let him rather know, that it has always been 
more pleasant to do, than not to do. Let the honor, 
if there be special honor, and there is, be awarded to 
men who have overcome the dry rot of laziness, and 
have made their lives living things, organic unities, out 
of seeming death and chaos. 

So as a matter of natural necessity, I began to take 
pictures in Athens, Ohio. Sixty daguerreotypes were 
soon finished in the best of style. It is true, very many 
people received these gems of art, who did not appreci- 
ate all the effort, and earnest devotedness to my profes- 
sion, with which I had made them worthy of their ac- 
ceptance. Now and then a man would come and receive 
a picture upon which I had lavished my best thought 
and work, and would see that it was more than a con- 
glomeration of chemicals, more than an aggregation of 
the elements of nature upon a hard substance. He 
would see that it was a piece of art. He would know 
that there was thought in it, with the powers of nature 
always precipitated the result called art. For art is a 
thing, taken in the rough, to which all the powers of 
one's being has been added. 

The Moses of Angelo is a piece of marble, to which, 
with all the energy of his nature, the artist brought the 
working activities of his being. I simply attempted to 
make every thing I did, worthy of myself, and I gener- 
ally found that it was worthy the acceptance of those 
for which it was made. And such, I think, is the se- 
cret of all real success everywhere. 

I might have misrepresented to those people, I might 
have given them work utterly unworthy of my ability. 
Very many came, as I said, who would have been satis- 
fied with less perfect specimens of picture-making. 
But this would have been to have reduced myself in 



j6 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

my own estimation, and to have lost the use of my best 
powers. It is by doing every thing with reference to 
one's best ideal that develops his energies, gives him 
success, and always wins the day. He who does a 
thing in sight of public opinion, does it only in a half 
light. He, who does a thing in the light of himself, 
and public opinion, does it in the whole light. The 
greatest praise I have heard to a profound lawyer, is the 
remark of one of his legal friends : "He always does his 
best." 

At Athens, the Ohio University is located. And as 
a practical man, I could not help observing the methods 
of education. Here I found dominant, and ruling, the 
idea, which to my mind, wrecks many an intellectual 
fortune, and destroys the power of many a human being 
in the world. For the sin of popular education, seems 
to me to lie in its being unworthy of the name education. 
Education means just what it says : — E-ducation. It 
means to lead forth, to draw out, to invite forth, to bring 
from within the latent powers of the human spirit. The 
critical educational question of our time is, Does so call- 
ed education do this ? Is it not rather a cramming pro- 
cess ? Do we not seek to get all we can into a boy or 
a girl ? Are we not trying to stuff our children full ? 
If we analyze many of our boasted advances in culture, 
is it culture at all, we are achieving ? Are we not hold- 
ing fast a large number of pupils with rigor and force, 
to put into them, by some method or other, all the dates, 
all the facts, all the ideas, all the discoveries, all the hy- 
potheses of which we know. Is this the true system ? 
What are the results of such education ? Does it 
produce thinkers, men of decision, men of large fore- 
cast, men of great ability, men of towering intellect, 
men of great feeling, men of conviction, men who know 
how to run conviction into deed — men of power ? Does 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 77 

it not rather produce men encumbered with what they 
do not understand, men caparisoned with battle-axes 
which they cannot wield, men who are overcome with 
an army of facts, dates, other people's ideas which they 
cannot muster and command? Does it bring to the 
world natures fitted for the world's work ? The fact is, 
that we have not yet learned the depth of the idea of 
development. To get a powerful man, we must have a 
man whose latent power is developed into service. A 
strong thinker must always be a man who has learned 
to think for himself, and to think strongly. A man of 
profound conviction must be a man who has convictions 
of his own, feels them swelling up from the depths of 
his nature. A man of action must be able to" bring 
forth an act, and an education which does not bring out 
and develop into power the as yet undiscovered energies 
of a man, is not worthy of the name. 

I am not decrying the value of facts. I am not assert- 
ing the worthlessness of knowledge. I have no designs 
upon what is known as scholarship. But I believe that 
the man must be greater than his possessions to give 
value to his possessions. 

What the world needs is practical men. All the pro- 
fessions are demanding these. All of the avocations of 
life are inquiring for them. This age particularly, is 
anxious for results. It is a practical time. It inquires 
after effects. It counts up long columns. It does not 
ask for ornament so much as for power. It does not 
lack in theory so much as. it lacks in fact. The man 
who succeeds in it, must be suited to it. He must be 
a man of scholarship, a man of wide information, a man 
acquainted with the past, a citizen of the present, but 
he must be a man of power to give these vitality. Facts 
are always capital. Truth is funds on hand. The ex- 
perience of the ages is money at interest. But there 



yS LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

must be a spiritual financier to manage all these, else 
bankruptcy will surely come. The work of schools, 
colleges, academies, and universities, is, as I take it, to 
develop these resources, by developing to them their 
masters, and by developing them unto him who shall 
rule them. 

But one month I remained in Athens. A pupil came 
to me to learn my art. I took the greatest pains in 
teaching him, and I have the honor to say that S. S. 
Hitt has never proved unworthy of the idea of that 
business which I imparted to him. 

The twentieth of October found me in Pomeroy. 
This town never struck me as the embodiement of beau- 
ty. It was, on the other hand, the representative of 
dirt. No charms come with the name of this place. I 
have heard that I have underrated its inhabitants. I 
probably was unfortunate in meeting people whose de- 
ceit long ago has taken them from the shores of this 
world forever. I cannot hold the present town, full of 
good and true people as it is, responsible for the sins of 
men who have certainly left the world without issue, or 
were kind enough to remove from the limits of this 
place to send forward into the future, through their child- 
ren, the abominable tendencies of the place. 

I hope my readers will not understand that I failed in 
business at this place. For my business was prosperous 
and thriving when I left. 

But business is not all. A man always feels less im- 
portant to himself when he loses faith in humanity. 
And if all the faith which I had in my race had come 
from my residence at Pomeroy, I should have been an 
exceedingly skeptical creature. We cannot overesti- 
mate the value to a man, of a faith, serene and power- 
ful, in the race. It is another element of one's capital. 
He feels that he is able to do more in the world when 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 79 

he has a cheerful belief in the excellence of its inhab- 
itants. 

Here I made a purchase of astounding dimensions. 
If it had only been the flatboat which I bought, it 
would have been well. Indeed, if it had only been the 
flatboat and the burden with which it was loaded, I had 
fared much better. 

But there on the twentieth of December, my reader 
might have seen me before that flat-boat, loaded as it 
was, with my new possession ; with my hands in my 
pockets, with my brain in a whirl, with my heart in my 
mouth, gazing at the spectacle surmounted, as it was, 
with two families, and gazing into the future, — a future 
I have never seen — for the profits which were never to 
come to me. I had paid one thousand and forty-one 
dollars, for it. I started down the river to dispose of it. 

The first day's voyage was against a very hard wind. 
Many times that day, I wished for the aparatus of the 
artist, and for the non-existence of this necessity which 
made out of a successful artist, a most brilliant failure 
as a seaman. I thought of the ocean-rangers, and did 
not desire to be one of them. I wondered how a man 
could persuade himself to a life on the sea. Winds 
that I had never heard of, tempests that have never been 
named, storms that would have exhausted all the cata- 
logues, raged about me, made the river a foam, and 
balked my course. It was a tremendous distance, which 
we went that day. But somehow, we only got eight 
miles, when the night came, from our point of departure. 
The night came gloomily. It was hard enough to go 
in the day-time, what should we do at night ? As the 
night of sorrow often-times brings the greatest calm, 
through which one sails to his eternal home, so that 
night brought with it such opportunities of progress, 



80 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

that we found in the morning that we had traveled thir- 
ty miles. 

The twenty-first came. A pleasant day dawned. 
Through it, and the night which followed, we traveled 
wearily along. The families were there, of Mr. E. 
Rose, and Dr. C. N. Maddy. Through the cold night 
we suffered greatly. Never shall I forget the sadness 
of those chilly hours. At 12 o'clock, we passed Ports- 
mouth. On we went until 12 o'clock at night. Then 
by a terrific gale we were borne to shore. We had to 
remain at the mercy of this blast, nestled close to the 
shore, until at 9 o'clock the next night. The wind ceas- 
ed, and we began our watery journey. Soon, however, 
the wind began to blow again, and a very cold freezing 
air added to our serious discomfort. The ice began to 
form. The cold was extremely penetrating, and through 
the next day we shivered as we rode along. At 12 
o'clock we passed Maysville. I was watch every night. 
Christmas came at last. Such a lonely, weary, cold 
Christmas I have never seen. The festivities of the day 
were out of our reach. In spite of all its sacred mem- 
ories, and its glowing prophecies, the day went in like 
a prolonged chill. On Christmas night we arrived at 
Cincinnati. Tuesday, and we were off again. Friday 
night, and we arrive at Madison. Here a sight came to 
my vision which I can never forget. It was so personal 
to myself, and so much of my own thought and life was 
related to it, that any autobiography I might make 
would be incomplete without this picture. Within sight 
of the wharf, and a terrible storm rages between us. 
Great waves, larger than I had thought could be organ- 
ized by any tempest upon a river, rose in frightful heaps 
before us. At times our whole craft seemed to be 
doomed. Heaving waters seemed destined to dash us 
into ruin. Great billows, large with the wrath of the 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 8 1 

tempest, seemed to laugh our safety into scorn. A 
storm of woes ruled the hearts of all on board. It was 
a trying place for me. I knew that if I could not keep 
calm in myself and in my face, I never should be able 
to control the affiighted passengers. I soon found that 
the storm without, although great and boistrous, was 
not equal, at all, to the storm in my little craft. I tried 
to rule the two tempests. For once I was compelled to 
yield to fear. I kept it within my own breast, until 
passing a mighty surge, I found myself in control, and 
soon we were at the wharf rejoicing with each other in 
safety. 

The cold increased after we were ashore. The wind 
gathered in piercing power. Next morning the river 
was full of ice, and January ist the boats are laid up on 
account of their frozen passage-way. 

On the 5th, I left Madison for Louisville, on the Em- 
ma Dean. I remained at Louisville until the 8th, in 
wait for a boat. At 2 P. M., on the Mattie Wayne, I 
left for Memphis. We laid up at night at Salt River. 
Nothing but the getting of the money from the passen- 
gers brought the captain from his warm retreat. At 
West Point I took a room for the purpose of taking pic- 
tures. Three hundred inhabitants made up the popula- 
tion. A clever and hospitable people did I find them 
to be. Two weeks passed pleasantly and profitably, 
when my boat came in sight, and I took my things on 
board of her. 

Through storms of wind and rain, ' ' through perils by 
sea and by land," we passed, and February 7th found 
us in Memphis. It had been a terrible ride. It was 
necessary for me to run when I could, but the elements 
seemed perpetually against me. The women on board 
were quite as hard to manage as the elements without. 
In the midst of a storm, fear and terror ruled them. 
10 



82 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

The monotony of the wrathful elements without, and 
the affrighted elements within was broken by that mel- 
ody so peculiarly attractive and so excruciatingly perva- 
sive to the soul of a bachelor, namely, the crying of 
babies. 

All writing and literary work was out of the question. 
I was too glad to preserve the record of the past. 

By this time my sash had got to be a tremendous 
burden. It was perfectly impossible for me to sell it at 
any sort of a profit, and the further I went the more I 
was persuaded that I never should be able to sell it at 
all. Dr. Maddy, who joined us at this place, was 
amazed to find his family alive. He expected that we 
all were drowned. Perhaps in such a short length of 
time so many flat boats have never been lost on the 
river. Old sailors gazed on me in astonishment, and I 
was rather astonished at myself when I realized through 
what we had passed and found ourselves at Memphis. 
A few days, and I had sold one hundred and ninety 
dollars worth of doors and sash. Then we left for 
Vicksburg. After a trial of two days, we found it im- 
possible to go through the Yazoo pass. Glad was I to 
see my craft safely landed. I left on the steamer Mary 
Agnes for Vicksburg. Here I sold eight thousand lights 
of sash. To Jackson, in the cars, did I pursue my way. 

A beautiful city is this. Fifty miles east of Vicks- 
burg, surrounded by beautiful rolling country, builded 
with stately residences, it is worthy to be the capital of 
this great State. 

I returned to Vicksburg to await the arrival of my 
boat. Here I disposed of more than one-half of my 
sash. But I was more than glad to give all that I had, 
boat and possibilities, to Mr. Rose and Dr. Maddy. 
On the steamer H. M. Wright I took passage for Bayou 
Sara, at which place I landed on the fourth of March. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 83 

The woods were green with verdure. The planters 
were planting their corn. The ravages of the yellow 
fever had horrified the community, but in spite of it all 
an artist had been there with some success, and business 
generally seemed thrifty. Traveling in the South at 
that time was unpleasant for many reasons. But to me 
it was especially unpleasant to accustom myself to their 
diet. The strongest animal food ruled supreme. High- 
ly flavored victuals concentrated into strength, were 
dominant. A vegetarian was not only unpopular, but 
was about impossible. Here I remained three weeks. 
Point Coupee was my stopping place. Six miles back 
from the river, and directly opposite this place where I 
had been stopping, is this, which is one of the richest 
of all the parishes in the State. Splendid plantations 
line the coast. A beautiful lake, made of the old Mis- 
sissippi, lies near. It is not a town, but the court-house, 
surrounded by two or three stores and a hotel. Three 
miles west is the college. Large and productive sugar 
plantations lie all along the river, and all this land is 
cultivated by the inhabitants who are principally Creoles 
of French descent. 

Truly, the South is one of the garden spots of the 
world. The March of the South was the early June of 
the North. Vegetation is rank, vigorous and green. 
Potatoes are large enough for use. The flowers that 
bloom only under Southern skies are heavy with blos- 
soms, and the balmy air is fragrant with their odors. 
Nature is poetic here. She adds richness to strength, 
and surpassing glory to her splendid powers. An abso- 
lute freedom seems to have taken possession of her 
genius, and the brilliancy of her show invites the sun- 
beams of the skies. 

To give change to this phase of nature, on the 30th 
of March a severe storm passed over this region. It 



84 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

blew the fences down, piled houses in ruins, damaged 
the growing vegetation, bended the beautiful flowers, 
and washed the low places into unproductive seas. So 
nature at her grandest puts off nature at her most beau- 
tiful and like life itself, often teaches us the greater les- 
son, because the beautiful flowers which we love are de- 
stroyed, and the elements which we fear are shown to 
be as necessary to the great chain of being, as those 
which we are accustomed to esteem with affectionate 
and kindest care. 

Twelve miles below on the river lies a small village 
which was my nearest stopping place. It is Port Hud- 
son, situated on a high bluff, and was, at the time of 
my visit, a town of great beauty. But its beauty did 
not keep me. To Clinton I went, twenty-five miles 
east, which is the parish seat of East Feliciana Parish, 
and a pleasant village of about twelve hundred inhabit- 
ants. Here I found an artist. But to leave had been 
to retreat. I thought if my art could not stand com- 
parison with his, the business had better be suspended 
so far as I was concerned, and that I had better enter 
some other line of work. I did not, however, expect 
to suspend until I had done my best. My best succeed- 
ed, and in spite of the fact that he had a splendid room, 
precedence in time, and fine opportunities, I soon found 
myself doing all the business. 

Here I saw the most fearful case of drunkenness that 
it has ever been my misfortune to see. Court was in 
session at the time, and it seemed to be the especial 
business of every man connected therewith to make 
himself incapable of any business at all. Wretched is 
the view I still preserve of that half-intoxicated town. 
A picture to which no pen can devote itself successfully 
has always risen in my mind when I have thought of 
this unhappy place. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 85 

The sash and door speculation gave me not only some 
very thrilling and unpleasant experience, but the uneasy 
consciousness thereafter, that, by eight hundred dollars, 
I was not so well off as when it had its origin with me. 
I was not only eight hundred dollars poorer, but as eve- 
ry man, after a signal financial defeat, while I stood 
waiting for the experience to settle over me, I also stood 
face to face with another opportunity to be a man un- 
der any circumstances, and felt the pressing need of do- 
ing something. 

But I must do something to regain the lost, and pre- 
pare myself for the future. I must make a raise some- 
how. I stood face to face with that fact. There was 
no escape. I had been a coward if I had desired an 
escape. Facts such as these, give one's eyes especial 
keenness, and with great alertness of vision did I gaze 
about. I saw a large amount of sugar, which, by some 
strange history, was offered for sale at a very low price. 
But the price was not low enough to strike me ; rather, 
I was not tall enough financially, to strike it. It could 
be bought for three cents per pound. Well did I know 
that it would be worth thrice that sum in one year. 
The sugar stood unbought, while I roamed the country 
for a partner. No man could be found who seemed to 
take hold of the idea with the same vehemence as I 
did. I wondered why I could not persuade them to 
my opinion on that sugar problem. I never thought 
that they were more in doubt, perhaps, about me, than 
about the three cents per pound or the sugar. As the 
years fly on, and I learn more and more of men, I can 
understand that although the sugar did go up as I sup- 
posed, it is often more of a speculation to do with one 
man than to do with a thousand pounds of sugar. 

Time followed on wearily, but pleasantly, and when 
nothing else came to employ me, I used my time in get- 



86 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

ting important information concerning subjects with 
which, in life and thought, every man has to do. 

The value of general information to men of all sorts, 
dispositions and tendencies, can not be overestimated. 
No profession or calling can afford the exclusion of the 
facts of the world. A man gets into a certain line of 
business, a profession which has to do peculiarly with a 
certain line of influences and facts, and is liable to think 
that this is all the world to him. The universe is in his 
business. He has taken a very narrow view of life and 
the universe, and of course becomes narrow himself. 
He gets to be an ordinary lawyer, it may be, in a quite 
ordinary man, instead of getting to be a great lawyer by 
being, first, a great, broad, man. Everywhere we meet 
them. They clog up the road of life. They have no 
information outside of their profession or business, and 
then, taken outside of it, as they will be at times, they 
fail. What a humiliating sight it is to see the thinker 
sunk and lost in the doctor, the scholar buried in the 
physician, the truth-seeker and truth-gatherer overlaid 
with the facts of one profession in life. Then when 
occasion comes that the truths of the time are to be de- 
fended, discussed or laid down, how perfectly overcome 
is he who can talk of or act for nothing else than his 
own peculiar line of facts. The man is lost. Get him 
into a certain line and he is a strong force, but get him 
out of his fortress and he is weakness itself. Goethe 
said a "man ought to be a citizen of his time." And 
human experience confirms it. It is sheer injustice to 
himself to lose the great force of facts which comes 
bounding with life to him, and proposes to fit him for 
a larger life than his own. There must be a ground of 
general knowledge upon which men may meet. This 
gives grace and beauty to the conversation ; this gives 
influence to the social circle. Why do you love to meet 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 87 

your physician in society ? Because he can talk of 
nerves, quinine, bones and acids, operations and fevers ? 
Is it not because he has a general knowledge which 
meets your own, and you talk and enjoy the day ? So 
the most wretched society which could be called to- 
gether is that convocation of lawyers, farmers, doctors, 
and merchants, who know nothing but their respective 
occupations. There they sit and gaze, and tell to each 
other the most uninteresting facts. There they dolefully 
pass the evening, so limited, so bound, so unable to con- 
fer one with another. 

And on the other hand, about the most cheerful thing 
in this world is a company of congenial souls, of all 
professions, trades and occupations, Math general inform- 
ation sufficient to make a platform upon which they may 
all stand. The lawyer lays aside his Blackstone. The 
physician has left his pill-bags at home. The artist does 
not smell of paint. The carpenter has no plane. The 
farmer has no plow. But men, all of them are men ; 
they are free, and the long hours rush by. They enjoy 
with common love. They part with mutual self-regard. 
So life is bound together by one manhood, and the air 
which it breathes through the mind is the acquaintance 
it is allowed to have with the great interests of men. 
Every man ought to know enough of every body else's 
profession, trade and avocation, to see the man in it, 
and feel his rights as such. What does a lawyer know 
of a doctor's rights until he gets a general idea of his 
work in the world. No man will be able to see any 
thing noble in anybody else's work but his own, if he 
knows that alone. This is the cause of many foolish 
bickerings, jealousies and spiteful remarks. Pure ig- 
norance makes men narrow, uncharitable, and unjust to 
each other. He becomes a slave to his own part of life. 
He knows nothing of the great discoveries anywhere 



QO LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS. 

else. He is vacant as an exhausted receiver about the 
progress the race is making. He is as careless as a wild 
man about the problems that are being born elsewhere, 
which, if he does not understand them, will crush him 
into failure. 

Besides, a man does .not, and can not get all there is 
in his own profession out of it, by living in it alone. 
He must see its value in the light of the value of others 
to prize it. He must see its dignity in the light of the 
dignity of all human work to approve it. He must 
learn that it is related to all the work and activity of 
men to find out its broad significance and universal im- 
portance. 

Every man who gets an idea or a fact, is, by that 
much, the more free. He has that much more capital. 
He is possessed of that much more as stock in trade. 
He will use it all some day in his duty. It will make 
him a broader man, if he never uses it at all. 

Dark, gloomy days will come. He will live on ideas, 
when other men perish without them. Storms will 
keep him in-doors, he must be safe in thought. Win- 
ters will come, he must make spring within. His whole 
nature will be beautiful and fruitful as he gets acquaint- 
ed and seeks control of the unknown which lies every 
where about him. 



CHAPTER VII. 



A PLEA FOR THE STUDY OF THE HUMAN BODY. 

The study of the human system had great charms for 
me. Not without great predispositions did I take to it, 
and find greatest pleasure in what was afterwards of so 
much service to me. And, I confess, when I think of 
what is the truth with regard to the great physiological 
facts with which the deepest and the shallowest human 
life has to do, I find that I builded better than I knew, 
and caught hold of facts which recent scientific investi- 
gations have brought out in splendid prominence. Who 
can be dumb in the presence of facts which seem to 
speak eloquently for themselves? Who can be un- 
moved with a feeling in which a great and advancing 
race takes part, when the whole current of modern 
thinking is moved and transformed by the attention 
which has been given to the physical basis and environ- 
ment of much if not all of our intellectual life ! 

I am not one who, having dipped into these things, 
am persuaded that every thought, emotion, and purpose 
of a human being is physical, and only physical. I 
have never seen a reason for losing faith in what seems 
to be as scientific a statement as any ever made : ' ' There 
is a spirit in man and the inspiration of the Almighty 
giveth them understanding." That proposition seems 
exact science, and is a consoling and inspiring revela- 
tion. Nothing nas been produced to show that my love 
for my mother is simply a change of matter within ^my 
II 



gO LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

skull. No reason has yet appeared, why we should 
think that our best ideas lie latent in the bread, and 
eggs, and potatoes we eat. The study of our physical 
structure has gone far, but it has not, and it appears that 
in the nature of things it cannot, go so far as that. This 
recent study of the human body is only the full exhibi- 
tion in this particular locality of science, of the spirit of 
investigation which has struck and reinvigorated science 
everywhere. But I do not know that we have reason to 
lay aside any of the great truths in any department of 
spiritual life. True, many of the gray-headed errors 
are gone, and who suffers but narrow creeds ? We say, 
let them go also. It is only for the health of the race 
that we should wish their departure. They have im- 
peded progress, and tied up the angel of the future. 
They are tyrants of free opinion, and if the spirit of 
fresh scientific thought has buried them forever, nobody 
will weep, nobody calls for their resurrection. But 
nothing vital, nothing essential, nothing that we need 
has gone. Alone with the substantial verities, alone with 
the undying truths, alone with invincible facts, shall we 
stand, and no man of courage, or thought, will ask for 
padlock and key wherewith to hold fast his new-born 
ideas and fasten in the fetters of death his new-found 
treasures of truth. The excitement has been a little 
laughable, and yet serious. But the brightness of the 
light now reveals the fact that the truth will never allow 
the facts of science and the facts of faith to collide, and 
that nothing which we needed, nothing, indeed, but the 
old mistakes of the past have gone. 

Here was the conception of God. It is an idea that 
it is universal. It can not be avoided. When it comes 
all is light ; when it is absent all is darkness. It is a 
necessary idea. But yet, when science began to move 
herself, it was funny to see men hunt up their idea of 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 9I 

God, and see if it was damaged. It was ridiculous to 
notice men trying to hold the ark of the Lord to save 
it from being carried off by the infuriated cows. It was 
laughable to notice every young theologue, and every 
old defender of the faith, shout in the presence of the 
congregation which did not know what a Prachipod was, 
and could not tell the difference between Bathybius and 
an eclipse of the sun, — his everlasting determination 
to defend the throne of God, and, bringing down huge 
and clenched fists upon the dusty bible, add that it must 
be done now, or it would be too late. Such people as 
had an idea of God, whi<?h was unscientific and unbibli- 
cal, have lost it, but God, the absolute, the eternal, Je- 
hovah, He sits upon his throne, and science says: "Yea 
and amen." People were afraid of Darwinism, and 
the man who told of it, was said to speak of something 
which would ruin the idea of God ! and yet, the very 
man who conceived the idea of the theory of Natural 
Selection, Alfred Russell Wallace, has said that this 
poetry is "highest philosophy and soundest science :" 

"God of the granite and the bee, 

Soul of the sparrow and the rose. 

The mighty tide of being flows 

Through countless channels, Lord, from Thee. 

It leaps to life in grass and flowers, 
Through every grade of being runs, 
While from Creation's radiant towers, 
Its glory beams in stars and suns." 

They were afraid that when the great laws of the uni- 
verse were found out, there would be no great First 
Cause, of all things. But a great scientific thinker, calls 
science, — from which all the trouble was expected, "the 
study of the modes of operation of the first cause." 
They said that it would not do for us to study second 
causes so much, for then we could not prove our The- 
ism — our belief in God. But the same thinker has 



92 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

said, what seems to be the truest deliverance of our 
time: "It is evident, therefore, that the recognition of 
second causes, cannot preclude the idea of the existence 
of God. If in tracing the chain of causes upward, we 
stop at any cause, or force, or principle, that force or 
principle, becomes for us God, since it is the efficient 
agent controlling the phenomena of the universe ; thus 
Theism is necessary, intuitive, and therefore universal. 
We can not get rid of it if we would. Push it out, as 
many do, at the front door, and it comes in again, per- 
haps unrecognized, at the back-door. Turn it out in 
its nobler forms, as revealed in* Scripture, and it comes 
again, in its ignoble forms, it may be as magnetism, elec- 
tricity, gravity, or some other supposed efficient agent 
controlling Nature. In some form, noble or ignoble, 
it will become the guest of the human heart." I there- 
fore repeat, Theism neither requires, nor admits of proof " 
The fact is, the moment you speak of the demands of 
the study of anatomy, you speak of something which 
calls up materialism to the half-ignorant, half-religious 
man, and of something which calls up the sublimest 
proof of his faith to the well-informed and devoted soul. 
As men were fearful about the destiny of God, when 
science begun to work in the world, so they have been 
and yet are, afraid of the destiny of the soul, when the 
anatomist begins his work. First of all, they have been 
afraid that by cutting into the secrets of our existence, 
it might be found that we came of the lineage suggested 
by Mr. Darwin; that our grandfather may have been a 
monkey, and that the other beasts are so related to us 
that all our talk about our peculiar place and power, 
our being, the soul, its destiny, nature and outlook, — 
that all this is even worse than nonsense. We were 
frightened at the idea that man might be older than we 
had supposed, forgetting that it made not the slightest 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 93 

difference whether he was six, or six million years old, 
as to his greatness and powers. They have taken up 
the bible and then looked at the knife of an anatomist to 
be horified, forgetting that scripture and that instru- 
ment tell the same story ; that man is the crown, the 
climax — the blossom in an ascending scale of Divine 
Creation. Science has found out that the deeper she 
goes into man, and the old earth, the clearer it is that 
a long preparation has been going on, and that the ages 
overlapping each other, have been at work by a Divine 
appointment, to make this world a garden for its occu- 
pant. And here the great fact of design, and from that, 
the vision of a Designer appears. Here are all the ca- 
pacities of the earth, suited to what the anatomist finds 
in the nature of man. The world is suited to the citi- 
zen, the citizen is suited to the world. Here are organs 
needing food ; abilities needing place and opportunity. 
And here is a world all suited to them. The anatomist 
goes into the human eye, and finds there the same rule 
which runs its eloquent thread of meaning through the 
whole body. I borrow an illustration from Prof. Le- 
Conte, both because I am better able to make clear to 
my reader the meaning I want to carry to him, and for 
the reason that the illustration is so true as to silence 
forever any objection to the study, I am now advocat- 
ing, on the ground of its irreligious tendencies. 

Comparing the finest piece of divine creation with 
the finest piece of human ingenuity and workmanship, 
we shall see the hand of God in design, but we shall 
have to use the anatomist to see His hands. They are 
the eye and the camera of the photographer. Notice, 
the design is the same, to form an accurate image on a 
properly adjusted screen. Now, we might linger with the 
design which arranged cautiously the covering of these 
instruments, the design which arranged for the wiping 



94 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

of them, the design for rapid movements in any direc- 
tion to get the image — but we should not get at the 
glory of either until we found ourselves within looking 
at the secrets of those instruments. We could not help 
seeing design. We could not help saying: "Node- 
sign without a designer." And we could not help see- 
ing a human designer for one and a Divine Designer for 
the other. We will look at the clear evidence of design 
in the proper placing of that screen in the back part of 
the small dark chamber, which only admits light from 
the front, in the photographer's camera ; we will notice 
how cautiously it has been entirely lined with lamp- 
black, and how that quenches and prevents the reflection 
of any light as it strikes the sides of the chambers, so 
that the light which strikes the screen will come straight 
from the object to be imaged ; — we will see that and say, 
a designer did it. Then we will notice that all that is 
true on a finer and more accurate scale with the eye, 
that this is Divine art as that is human, and we will say, 
a Divine Thinker thought this, and a Divine Creator 
made it. 

Then notice how this image, which must be distinct 
and clear, is made bright in the camera. A simple hole 
will not do. The larger the hole, the less distinct the 
image ; and it must be distinct. The smaller the hole 
the less bright the image, and it must be bright. What 
gets us rid of this difficulty ? A lens is designed. It 
can gather light and send it with directness. And the 
camera again tells of the human designer, while every 
human eye tells of its Divine Designer also. 

But there are troubles with lenses. The lens is like 
a prism. If you let light shine through it, the white 
light is broken into the colors, separated from each oth- 
er as in a rainbow. Every thing that you see through 
that prism is tinged with those colors. Confusion comes. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 95 

How shall it be remedied ? With design that has been 
celebrated the world over, a convex and a concave lens 
were prepared and nicely adjusted, the difficulty van- 
ishes. A designer cleared it away. But long ago, when 
with the Eden light, the eye of Adam was baptized, 
a Divine Designer had solved the same difficulty, and 
whenever a man looks out from his eye and gathers into 
him images of what lies without, he may know that 
he is proving the being of God. The crystaline, the 
aqueous, the vitrous lenses arrange it all — the first two 
convex, the last concave. This design makes our life 
beautiful. And so I might follow this out, showing the 
same great result. The presence of Jehovah flashes in 
every eye. The same thought which humanly excites the 
times, once came Divinely to excite the eternities. Anat- 
omy finds the God of the universe in these orbs of vision. 

And as surely as anatomy finds God there, does this 
study find the potency of the soul within their mortal 
frame. From the edge of the anatomist's knife drops 
the idea which is accepted as science everywhere. " Or- 
ganization did not begin life." There is and has been 
something in us which has formed us according to an 
idea. It must, therefore, have been a thinking thing. 
Now this thinking thing is the soul. But Buchner says : 

' ' The naturalist proves that there are no other forces 
in nature besides the physical, chemical and mechanical. " 

While we have on the side to which I am compelled 
to say the best anatomy leans, these sayings which con- 
tradict it. Says Dr. Elam : 

"Once for all, it can not be too clearly understood 
that this claim is utterly without foundation. No vest- 
ige of what can fairly be considered proof of the doc- 
trines of materialism has ever been offered. Now, as 
two thousand years ago, they rest only upon arbitrary 
assumption and conjecture." 



g6 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Dubois Raymond has taken up the idea that the brain 
alone produces thought, and says : 

"There is and must forever remain an impassable 
chasm between definite movements of definite cerebral 
atoms and the primary facts which I can neither define 
nor deny. / feel pain or pleasure, I taste a sweetness, 
smell a rose scent, hear an organ tone, see red, together 
with the no less immediate assurance they give, there- 
fore I exist." 

Professor Tait says, concerning those who believe 
that all our so-called spiritual life is physical ; 

" On the other hand, there is a numerous group, not 
in the slightest degree entitled to rank as physicists 
(though in general they assume the proud title of Philos- 
ophers), who assert that not merely Life, but even Vo- 
lition and Consciousness are merely physical manifesta- 
tions. " But Professor Tyndall goes this far: 

"Man is a machine worked only by natural and 
necessary forces, therefore an automaton ; therefore 
irresponsible, since the robber, the ravisher and the mur- 
derer can not help robbing, ravishing, and murdering." 
And Dubois Raymond, the anatomist of the brain, says ; 

"I will now prove, as I believe, in a very cogent 
way, not only that, in the present state of our knowl- 
edge, Consciousness can not be explained by its material 
conditions but that from the very nature of things it 
never will admit of explanation by these conditions." 

So out of it all comes conscious, thinking something 
we call the human soul. 

But has anatomy aught to say against the immortality 
of this soul (in Miller, Hodge and Alger) ? No. The 
more truly that anatomy does its work, do we find that 
this nature of man is great in promise. So great is it, 
and its life here is so short, that science, which believes 
that there are not wings with no place to fly in, must 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 97 

agree that it has an eternity in which to unfold its trem- 
bling destinies. Hence it has eternal life. Hence the 
soul is immortal. 

It must be so ! Plato, thou reasonest well ! 

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 

This longing after immortality? 

Or whence this secret dread and inward horror. 

Of falling into nought ? why shrinks the soul 

Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 

"lis the divinity that stirs within us ; 

'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, 

And intimates eternity to man ! 

Every touch of the anatomist's knife, reveals what is 
more than the substance by which it acts, and through 
which it performs the magic of thought. No well- 
grounded reason has appeared, why Socrates should not 
say : "I hope to go hence to good men. " Or why Paul 
should not say: "Having a desire to depart and be 
with Christ," or why there is not truth at the base of 
the assertion: "Neither can they die anymore." No 
instrument has been able to find why all over the world, 
it was not right for men to believe in immortality. But 
the instruments of the investigator have, on the other 
hand, shown that this splendid habitation, the human- 
body — must hold a soul, meant for eternal destinies and 
careers that out-run the centuries. The fact is that the 
study of anatomy, has had the best thinkers to an en- 
dorsement of Dr. Miller's position: "The properties 
that we call form, impenetrability, inertia, attraction, 
no more certainly imply the existence of a substratum 
in which they inhere, and which we call matter, than do 
the phenomena of thought, emotion, volition imply the 
existence of a substratum in which they inhere, and this 
we call mind. Matter is an entity. Mind is an entity. 
If we- must doubt the existence of one, it must be mat- 
ter ; for we cannot believe that matter is, without assum- 
ing that there is a mind which believes it. In and 
12 



98 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

through the wonderful organism called the body, mind 
becomes tangent to matter — takes a bearing on matter, 
cognizes it, controls it. The material pen that traces 
this line, is moved by the bony structure clasping it, 
the bones are moved this way and that by the muscles, 
the muscles contract in response to nerve stimulus, and 
nerves of muscular motion receive their stimulus from 
the anterior part of the spinal cord, and the response of 
this cord to volitions is dependent on its connection 
with the brain. Another set of nerves convey impulses 
inward, from their perimeters up to the brain, and sen- 
sations result. But when the physiologist tells us all 
this, and measures the rate at which the impulse travels 
along the afferent and efferent nerves, and solves his 
own 'personal equation,' he has given us not one ray 
of light in reference to that something which is suscepti- 
ble of these suspicions, which compares them as to their 
intensity, or notes them as agreeable or disagreeable, 
and which determines when an impulse, and what degree 
of impulse, is to be transmitted, along what nerve trunk 
and to what point — that something to which bones, 
muscles, nerves, spinal cord, and brain, along with the 
pen, stand in the relation of an instrument. Now, the 
further we travel along this path of reflection, the firmer, 
it seems to the writer, will be the ground on which 
rest the belief that the mind is, and must be, something 
beyond and above the material organism, and that this 
something may survive the dissolution of that organism, 
may take to itself a new and vastly superior organism, 
and one endowed with immortality." 

It was thought that the whole idea of a personal res- 
urrection ought to and must be abandoned when mate- 
rialism began its seeming succession of triumphs.- Men 
said that materialism was certain in its effect, and that 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 99 

it was well established. But a scholar made fun of it, 
as follows : 

"We witness at this time one of the most determined, 
and as may be shown, most unjustifiable efforts which 
the world has yet seen to establish materialism upon a 
basis of fact and reason. This new materialistic revival 
is essentially the weakest recorded, and would be simply 
laughed at if intelligent persons would but carefully and 
critically examine the facts and arguments upon which 
it is supposed to rest, and not allow their reason to be 
subjugated or disturbed by the very solemn demeanor 
of its chief exponents. Let the reader only think for 
a moment what would have become of this new mate- 
rialism could it have been exposed to the intellectual 
attacks of Socrates. Its chances would now be little 
better were it not for the polite indolence of many of 
the educated classes, for the general dislike of critical 
analysis, and for the ingenuity and audacity displayed 
by its disciples in assertion, interpretation, and evasion. 
It is no uncommon thing nowadays to find such ques- 
tions as the structure, composition, relation, origin and 
destiny of man, the nature of his consciousness, the 
question of free-will or necessity, the genesis of man's 
moral nature, and the probability of a future state ex- 
pounded, discussed, and definitely determined in an 
hour's discourse, it may be to working men or women, 
or done into a magazine article that may be perused in 
half an hour." 

And that same scholar in anatomy, Lionel Beale, after 
exhaustively discussing the ideas which antagonize the 
conception of a personal resurrection, and showing that 
they have no foundation, asserts the following : 

" It is not for me, taking up the subject from the sci- 
entific side, to say one word in defense of religious truth ; 
but I may, without hesitation, express my conviction 

LofC. 



100 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

that the main arguments adduced by materialists against 
religion will scarcely bear thoughtful examination. Many 
of the more recent observations are very audacious, but 
that is all. Of the so-called facts upon which some of 
the arguments are said to rest, many are not facts at all, 
and the less said about them the better. Still, I sup- 
pose, that some who disbelieve entirely in religion could 
clearly state the grounds of their unbelief; but I am 
sure that many who have discarded religious belief be- 
cause they fancied that materialism was true, or because 
they believed and desired that it might turn out to be 
true, have been misled or have deluded themselves into 
the belief that certain things are demonstrable and true, 
which are neither. Such persons have unquestionably 
accepted doctrines as true which can be clearly proved 
to rest upon erroneous and unsound data only, and have 
abandoned what, at any rate, has not been and can not 
be demonstrated to be untrue." 

Nothing can be more absurd than such an objection 
to the study of the science of the human structure. It 
has done great harm. It makes narrow bigots, and goes 
against the health of the world, while the idea of im- 
mortality is as clear as the noonday. Dr. Carpenter 
himself has said very strong words about the study of 
Nature by theologians, which, I am persuaded, it would 
be well for them to heed. He says : 

"Thus, then, if theologians will once bring them- 
selves to look upon Nature, or the material universe, as 
the embodiement of the Divine thought, and at the sci- 
entific study of Nature as the endeavor to discover and 
apprehend that thought (to have ' thought the thoughts 
of God ■ was the privilege most highly esteemed by 
Kepler,) they will see that it is their duty, instead of 
holding themselves entirely aloof from the pursuit of 
Science, or stopping short in the search for scientific 



S. J. WOOLLEY. IOI 

truth wherever it points toward a result that seems in 
discordance with their preformed conceptions, to apply 
themselves honestly to the study of it, as a revelation of 
the Mind and Will of the Deity, which is certainly not 
less authoritative than that which he has made to us 
through the recorded thoughts of religiously-inspired 
men, and which is fitted, in many cases, to afford its 
true interpretation. And they can not more powerfully 
attract the scientific student to religion than by taking 
up his highest and grandest thought and placing it in 
that religious light which imparts to it a yet greater 
glory. They will then perceive that, although if God 
be outside the physical universe, those extended ideas of 
its vastness which modern science opens to us remove 
him farther and farther from us, yet, if he be embodied 
in it, every such extension enlarges our notion of his 
being. As Mr. Martineau has nobly said : ' What, in- 
deed, have we found by moving out along all radii into 
the Infinite ? That the whole is woven together in one 
sublime tissue of intellectual relations, geometric and 
physical — the realized original, of which all our science 
is but the partial copy. That Science is the crowning 
product and supreme expression of human reason. . . 
Unless, therefore, it takes more mental faculty to con- 
strue a universe than to cause it, to read the Book of 
Nature than to write it, we must more than ever look 
upon its sublime face as the living appeal of Thought to 
Thought. ' But the theologian can not rise to the height 
of this conception unless he is ready to abandon the wor- 
ship of every idol that is ' graven by art and man's de- 
vice' — to accept as a fellow-worker with himself every 
truth-seeker who uses the understanding given him by 
' the inspiration of the Almighty ' in tracing out the di- 
vine order of the universe, and to admit into Christian 
communion every one who desires to be accounted a 



102 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 



disciple of Christ, and humbly endeavors to follow in 
the steps of his Divine Master." 

But having passed these objections, we come face to 
face with the splendid facts of our physical frame with 
which anatomy and physiology, has to do. Are they 
not of such a nature, and of such beauty as to render it 
foolish for one to neglect them ? 

Here are the subtile harmonies, and rich melodies, 
which go to make vitality. All this rush of life within 
our bodies, how finely is it connected. What an orches- 
tra ; what deep-seated preparation for harmony ; what 
arrangement, this to fit that ; what disposition of facts, 
what beautiful accuracies ; what niceties of structure and 
obvious truth of facts. 

The bones seem to be a splendid frame-work for a 
noble building. How they are fitted each to each, and 
how upon them is arranged the great combination of 
muscle, nerves, blood, and tendon, which altogether do 
a man's work in the world. But with finer facts than 
bone and muscle, our physical structures have to do ; 
with a nobler set of magnificent energies, do these bod- 
ies operate. They are the home of the mind, the 
workshop of the spirit, the palace of the soul, the dwell- 
ing place of the Holy Ghost. This muscular system has 
to do duty for all our thought. This blood furnishes 
ample force, to allow designs, and these physical organs 
supply effort and effect to all our desires. This home 
of the mind is wondrously connected with the mind it- 
self, so near, that, as my reader has seen, the question 
of the hour is, whether they are not 6ne and the same. 
We have seen that question answered, and now see the 
deep relation between them. Here is this nervous sys- 
tem and the intellect. So close is the relation that dif- 
ferent localities have been made for different spiritual op- 
erations. The brain we say, is the seat of all actual ac- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. I03 

tivity. All the great art, all the wise statesmanship, all 
the fine philosophy, all the heart-rending horror, all the 
noble poetry, all the lustrous chivalry, all the immor- 
tal literature, and all of the grand purposes of the hu- 
man race date to some brain, burning with fervor and 
bright with effort. But more than this, God comes to 
human thought, and the fine experiences of Moses on 
Nebo, Sinai, and Horeb, all the great feelings of Elijah 
at the place of his heroism, all the experience of Fenelon, 
John, Paul, Luther, and the untold thousands occurred 
in human brains, in bodies which were the temples of 
the Holy Ghost. How grand then, is this study ! With 
what deep devotion ought men to pursue it ! It is the 
physical side of the highest possibility of creation, and 
who can wonder that it should thus be celebrated by its 
devotees ? 

Does not then the study of physiology, as founded 
on the study of anatomy, lead us immediately into the 
ethics of hygiene ! From the vision point of these stud- 
ies, do we not gain sight of a set of duties, which will 
make health sacred, as Divine Capital on which we are 
to do work for humanity and God, which shall show us 
that much of the sin, and crime, and woe of the world, 
has its genesis in a carelessness which overlooks all those 
facts, and that the pressing duty of the hour is a close 
study of the ethics of health ? 

For this is health, — capital, the stock in trade, on 
which a man does business, for time and eternity. Be- 
cause it is so, it is his duty to guard it, and protect it. 
Disease is wickedness, except when inherited or una- 
voidable. Sickness is wrong, except for the same rea- 
sons. A clear head, gives more clear thoughts than a 
head filled with the results of indiscretion, wrong-doing, 
and evil. So it is a duty to keep it in the best condi- 
tion and circumstance. A clear head is so much capi- 



104 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS. 

tal to do all the business of a human being upon ; a sound 
body, through and through, has the same valuation. 
The world with its duties, demands, pleads, presses upon 
each man, and he who is not in the best condition for 
duty, cheats not only himself, but the world. "Who 
is weak," said Paul : "and I am not weak." We must 
learn the ethics of good health, from the anatomy of 
our bodies, and their physiology. We there see how 
much we are capable of bearing and doing, we then find 
the use and abuse of our organs. We there understand 
the enormity of a sin against the body, and feel that he 
who slights the body, slights the mind. He who slights 
the mind slights himself, and he who is unjust to him- 
self, is unjust to the world, 

How much of crime is owing to ignorance of the laws 
of our bodies. How much evil comes from the fact that 
we slight the study of ourselves. Diseases attach to 
parents, which they transmit, with their compliments, to 
their children, unmindful of the suffering, which must 
ensue. Bad habits, which make bad crimes, oftentimes 
fall from age to age. Physiology is set at defiance, and 
the march of death goes on. 

To close this discussion, which I felt must be given, 
if my whole life were written, the need of education is 
the study of man in his physical nature, without preju- 
dice, without fear, with the assurance that the truth of 
his spiritual nature will be seen, as deeper sinks the 
•thought of the student into this marvelous connection 
of his body, and the duties which we owe to it. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



OTHER and quite as practical subjects have from 
time to time touched me and one enforces itself 
upon my attention while I write. 

I was looking at what to-day threatens the life of 
the republic, yea, the life of the race, more than 
standing armies or battalioned hosts, more than great 
navies, more than the shafts of the soldiery of our 
foes, — when I saw that drunkard. I am not simply re- 
citing dates about myself, nor occurrences, in this vol- 
ume, but more anxious for my opinions than the 
recollection of my past, I feel it due to all concerned to 
present such opinions as I may have formed in a life- 
work which now looks into the West, and bears the 
teaching of over a half century of human experience. 

I assure my readers that I have not seen these facts 
which confront the angel of the future so audaciously, 
without getting well-outlined opinions about the traffic 
which breaks the hearts of women and damns the souls 
of men ; which steps to the approaching muse of 
history and hands her a cup of blood, and asks her to 
dip her pen in that and then write. 

The spectacle is awful, if for nothing but its great- 
ness : — a terrible greatness, indeed. The army that 
every year walks to* its awful death, is a spectacle for 
worlds. It bends the heavens in pity ; it woos the 
tears of the angels in sympathy divine. Every calling 
has to contribute. Every trade gives its own. Every 
profession is broken. Every avocation in life yields its 
13 



106 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

men. Every condition is taxed. Poverty with its 
rags sends its delegates to the death of the drunkard. 
Wealth with its robes of fashion, and jewels, fresh from 
the bosom of nature, supplies its aristocratic quota, 
who shall have to bury their position, pawn their gold, 
sell their glories, to sleep in a common drunkard's 
grave. The populations which oscillate between poor 
and rich are decimated for the wretchedness which 
feasts upon human homes, human hearts and human 
souls, and, like a district which is taxed, respond to 
their levy which is conceived by fiends in hell and is 
executed by fiends on earth. No rank, nor fortune, 
no circumstance nor condition, no fellowship nor soli- 
tude, no ignorance nor learning, no prospect nor defeat, 
no faith of men nor love of women seems delivered 
from the audacious attacks of this high-handed tyrant. 
No freedom on earth seems to escape the efforts of the 
foe, whose army is a band of suffering and wretched 
slaves. This grows more awful as we remember that 
the tide of intemperance has been going on through the 
long, long past. Oh what a world full of tears have 
fallen, what a firmament full of oaths which have 
been hurled at the eternal One. What a sky full of 
wretched darkness has fallen on homes ; what number- 
less deaths at the cup ; what a multitude have gone 
staggering down into woe. What a wail reaching 
heaven, echoed from the heart of hell, come from the 
long, long past. As we look back into the abysm of 
time, how many fine characters all blackened and torn, 
how many fair futures engulfed in rum ; how many 
beautiful day-dreams broken into* pieces ; how many 
glorious hopes shattered into fragments ; how many 
gigantic possibilities perished as they fell, groaned as 
they went down into darkness terrible, into the depths 
infinite. There are the orators whose voice, all turned 



S. J. WOOLLEY. I07 

to the splendid ideas which lit their brains, moved na- 
tions, raised armies, presented bayonets, saved consti- 
tutions, and at last struggled in that death. There are 
the generals whose valor was bright as the noon-day on 
battle field, with which history is vocal, who were not 
heroic in the place of temptations and fell beneath the 
sharp sword of the giant intemperance. There are the 
preachers, whose voices trembled with pathos, whose 
eyes were moist with tears, whose hearts burned for 
sinners, who pointed to Calvary, who pleaded for the 
Holy Ghost, who gazed into the face of God, but who, 
at last fell and lost, all, and shrieked their foul slanders 
on Christianity as down into the company of the lost 
they rushed, infuriate with rum. Philosophers, who 
gazed into the depths of life, and swept into keen eyes 
the heritage of the zenith, poets, whose music lingers 
yet among the hills and valleys of human experience, 
whose voices can never grow faint, whose tones breathe 
of eternity, whose "star-tuned harps " ring yet with the 
sounding notes of heaven, — men of might whose arms 
shook the cities of the seas — men of thought, whose 
ideas made civilization and rocked thrones into frag- 
ments, men of love, who builded the image of heaven 
on earth over smiling and beautiful children — women — 
oh spare the truth — women, who dashed love to death, 
and hid the magnificence of motherhood in murder and 
sin, children, beautiful, bright, loving children, in 
whose nature a drunken father and a bad mother have 
sent the secrets of wretchedness which shall make the 
years heavy with moans. — all in the grave of the past, 
dug with rum, and sealed with crime. 

But the future comes. On and on it is to go — all 
this infinite wretchedness on, on to eternity. Add this 
to your thought, if you can. Just that, enlarged by 
the infinities of God, of which every man is full — just 



108 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

in that infinite proportion is a single phase of the curse 
of intemperance. 

The depth of its woe is not felt, and never can be, 
until the value of the human soul shall be appraised and 
declared. This, only the eternal arithmetic can com- 
pute. We have no equation for it. No infinities come 
into our grasp, no measurement can be had. None but 
God and a soul, which shall have forever and forever in 
which to learn it, can know the greatness of this curse. 

Some of its disastrous work we can know. We can 
see its devilish work in our common humanity. It 
blights the best energies. 

With fiendish grip it holds fast to the dearest powers 
of the human being. It takes one's ideal and drags it 
like a captured banner in its slime and filth. All full of 
stars, all covered with brilliant stripes, is that flag of 
our life which felt the gales of heaven upon it, and 
yielded its beauty to the South wind and the storms of 
the North. It floated at the summit of our mortal life. 
It was the expression of our ideal. Intemperance 
seizes it, drags it with its horrid form through the dust 
of its vileness, into the midst of its sister vices, where, 
before our eyes, they sit and tear it into shreds, one 
strip after another, smear it with their sins, and laugh 
with horrid screams as we see what we ought to be, 
what we want to be, what we said we would be, torn 
into fragments and utterly destroyed. 

Love seated on the throne of the heart sees the ap- 
proach of rum. She is white, clear-eyed, beautiful. 
She is all aglow with a radiance which ripples against 
her face as the streams play from the throne of God. 
She takes but a taste. She has lost her splendor. She " 
touches it caressingly, her clear eyes are coarse and 
brutal. She tastes again ; her soft hand is hard and 
heavy. She drinks, and her beauty is gone. She cries 



S. }. WOOLLEY. IO9 

for more, her face is flushed, her eyes are blood-shot 
and horrible. She shrieks. Love is gone ; lust is here. 
Home is defiled. Virtue is covered with darkness, and 
truth and honor are lost in deepest crime. 

Aspirations, like angels of God, sit with hopes, who, 
like other messengers of heaven, invite them to sublim- 
est heights. Rum comes. The war begins. The man 
yields. These angels are compelled to doff their snowy 
robes, and in wretched gloom attired, are forced to bring 
the foaming draught of hell to sink the spirit deeper 
into lowest degradation. 

Rum charges the brain and makes a monster out of 
reason. Rum assaults the imagination and makes it a 
wretch to dream of death. Rum seizes the will and 
strangles it in its snaky fold. Rum catches the instincts, 
and depriving them of sight, sends them running 
swiftly on to death. Rum makes the intellect the 
watch-tower of wrong, and of the heart makes a capitol 
of evil. Rum is the tyrant of the past, the tyrant of 
the present, and looks into the faces of men defiantly, 
and swears with a systematic oath, that Rum will be 
the tyrant of the future. 

Such is the antagonist, how shall we master him ? 
Such is the disease, what is the remedy ? 

It appears to me that we may see the remedy best by 
seeing the history of the disease. Where, then, does 
intemperance begin its work ? What is its origin ? 

Certainly not in the bodily organization. Animals, 
with a great physical pre-disposition, have no such hab- 
its. Besides, as is well known, the most successful 
treatment does not show that in the physical organism 
does the sin abide. 

Ah, it is a sin. That is enough to show that its ori- 
gin is deeper than the organs of the human body. It 
begins just where all wrong-doing begins. It has its 



IIO LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS. 

genesis exactly where all other culpable evil has its ori- 
gin, in the soul, in the will. Intemperance is the yield- 
ing of the will to the persuasions of its surroundings, as 
all sin is. The body adds or not to the force of these 
circumstances, which, surviving the will, persuade it to 
yield to the satisfying of itself. 

It is saying : ' ' The forces outside of my being are 
stronger than those inside. My circumstances are more 
than I am." It is a sure sign of lack of inner strength 
— manhood. All sin, all wrong- doing, all evil, all giv- 
ing up is that. The trouble always is at home, within 
the breast, in the soul, in the will of the man. 

Now, if this is so, — and that it is, all experience 
shows, — what is the remedy ? What is the preventive ? 
The remedy and preventive are one : Keep the man 
stro7ig. Make him greater than all the world has for 
him. Fill him with God, and duty, and truth, and a 
love of righteousness ; for nothing can overcome from 
without what is strong and self-sustaining from within. 
What does not sustain itself is always weak, and gener- 
ally at the mercy of its foes. A hollow globe is weaker 
than a solid sphere. The strong man is the full man, 
the man who is so related to himself and to the source 
of strength as to sustain himself, and thus be strong. 

Such, then, is the preventive, such the cure. 

If you want to make people of temperance, make 
them people of manhood and womanhood Call out 
the best and boldest exercise of their best powers. It 
is as though you wanted to make a good carpenter out 
of your boy, you would not tell him to watch and not 
be a preacher, or a doctor, or something else besides a 
carpenter, but you would tell him how and give him all 
the opportunities you could to be a carpenter. You 
would tell him of carpenters, take him to a carpenter- 
shop, fill him with the idea, call out his ability, give ex- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. Ill 

ercise to his powers, get out the carpenter in him, help 
him to be a carpenter all the time. And so if you want 
a man, do not try to get a human being not to be a de- 
mon or a fool, but try to get him to be a man. The 
surest way to keep people from doing what they ought 
not to do, is to get them to do what they ought to do. 
And the truest way to get human beings not to be what 
we do not want them to be, is to get them to be what 
we want them to be. In all the great work of the world, 
"the way to resume is to resume." 

But in what manner shall we call this latent man out? 
Certainly, culture shall be a great agency. But are not 
his troubles deeper than difficulties of the intellect? 
Does he not need more than the gymnastics of thought ? 
Is it not a fact that some men of the highest intellectual 
power and scholarship have been ruined by rum ? No 
marshaling of ideas, no array of facts, no collocation of 
experiences, no tones from the deep-voiced past, no 
acquaintance with the forces around us, no depth of 
scientific erudition but has been disgraced by the pres- 
ence of this marauding foe. We can not, therefore, 
depend upon the development of the intellect. We 
believe that that is necessary, but we believe, also, that 
that is not all. A man must have clear ideas of duty, 
of the value of life, of responsibility, of his relation to 
the working ideas of the Universe, to give force to the 
might of his nature. But something must be behind all 
these urging devotion with loyalty, filling the recesses 
of each day's work with their fullness and meaning. 

That is, the deep springs of feeling must be touched 
beneath the rugged rock, and allowed to bubble forth in 
transparent beauty to refresh the vegetation at its feet, 
and the Moses' rod that bursts these stone barriers, the 
unfeeling walls in which these treasures are held is sym- 
pathy. Mightier than the power of men thought is the 



112 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

power of a human sentiment. It is a thought to which 
feeling has been added, and he who can draw these out 
has enlisted the deeper agencies of our mortal life. 
Many a man who has felt the advent of the finest ideas, 
perishes for the grasp of a warm hand filled with the 
messages of the heart. Many a human being has stag- 
gered into darkness with the profoundest notions buzzing 
in his brain, while a single touch from a heart-warmed 
finger-tip, would have led him into light, boundless and 
supreme. Abstractions can not catch the deeper pow- 
ers of man, but a real, visible, living presence, becomes 
his anchor and guide. Our theories are far beyond our 
feelings. Our thoughts are in advance of our sympa- 
thies. We have cast up columns of statistics, we have 
tabulated long catalogues of cases, and we have arrived 
at what we call the scientific view of intemperance. Our 
intellect has said it, but our heart has not felt it. 

We have sat in our studies and thought the matter 
out. We have done less in going with hearts full of 
feeling to win the wanderer back. It is an easy thing 
for us to read the reports of crime, it is an easy thing 
for us to get the history of woe, it is an easy thing for 
us to determine the per cent, of murderers who use rum, 
it is a comparatively pleasant task for us to find and 
upbraid the reason of our heavy taxes, but it is an 
heroic thing to send our feelings like so many angels 
into houses of woe, into homes of disgrace, into the 
ditches and gutters, into the asylums and penitentiaries, 
into the dram-shops and stylish restaurants, and keep 
them there until they bring home again the men who 
are on their way to ruin, and assist in making their 
homes places of peace, love, truth, hope and manhood. 
All this is the work of sympathy. Sympathy is a more 
powerful engine for raising man than eloquence, or 
philosophy, or fear. It is the warning influence which 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 113 

invites the latent manhood to break through the soil, 
lift its young verdure into the air, open its leaves at the 
touches of the light and burst in flowers of fragrance 
and bear fruit at last to the salvation of men and the 
glory of God. 



14 



CHAPTER IX. 



SAM HOUSTON. 

THE study of men is quite as interesting as the 
study of more abstract subjects. And so I felt it 
a pleasure as well as a duty to my readers who have 
come thus far with my story, to give some idea of the 
men I have met, and with whom I have had to do. 

As America is full of Washington, so is Texas full of 
Sam Houston. He is the household god — and pretty 
much all the divinity he has Sam Houston is to the or : 
dinary Texan. 

While there, to interest myself and to find out the 
reason of this phenomenal affection for a personal force, 
I took what I had known of his political career and 
added to it many facts, which, with the political back- 
ground with which all students of our history are ac- 
quainted, will add something of clearness and detail to 
the picture of General Sam Houston in the minds of 
my readers. 

On the 2d of March, 1793, this energetic child was 
born. Strange and suggestive must it ever remain, that 
on the day of his birth which so many years afterwards 
he was to celebrate, a new republic also was to be born. 
For on the natal day of Sam Houston, the independence 
of Texas was declared. 

On the hills of Scotland, led by Wallace and Bruce, 
fighting for God and Liberty, his hardy ancestry had 
made themselves conspicuous. Their zealous piety 
grew on the root of the religion of John Knox and his 
brave compeers. Driven from place to place, wander- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 115 

ing exiles, as it seemed, they finally left Ireland for 
America, and settled in Virginia, where, near Timber 
Ridge Church, Sam Houston was born. His father 
was not distinguished for wealth, but for indomitable 
manhood. This was the gift which descended to his 
son. But a powerful motherhood was behind him. 
That countenance which beamed upon his infancy shed 
benignant strength upon all his early manhood, and 
when history shall have awarded those who have placed 
the world in debt to them, this matronly and dignified 
woman, whom the poor recollected with gratitude, shall 
have a place. Her numerous family did not preclude 
her giving the necessary attention to the rearing of this 
boy. No misfortune overcame her. In those unpeo_ 
pled regions, she taught her son the ideas which lie at 
the base of modern civilization. Young Houston found 
himself capable of work, and engaged immediately in 
effort. Near his home there was an academy. For a 
short time he found his thirst for knowledge growing 
more ambitious under this auspicious influence. This 
desire for education, which lies at the base of all true 
culture, was omnipresent with him. The Texans scarce- 
ly know how much they owe to that fire which was 
fanned into a flame by that heroic mother, and which 
reached its full power when those two or three books, 
which he found, became fuel for its future force in the 
world. He loved History. He looked into History as 
the chronicle of the race, and found from experience 
the nature and influence of those passions and senti- 
ments and ideas which make thrones and republics pos- 
sible. It is a fact, said to be little known, that at this 
early age he was able to repeat almost the whole of 
Pope's translation of Homer's Iliad. This led him into 
the study of the languages. But deeper than mere lin- 
guistic attainments did his culture go. He loved to live 



Il6 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS. 

in the mighty shades of great influences. He loved to 
feel the throbbing heart of the past, and ascertain the 
growth and spirit of its ideas and ideals. I am told 
that a small but effectual tyranny was exercised over 
him by his brothers, who were only greater in age. 
They compelled him to go into a store. He compelled 
them one day to miss him. News came that Sam had 
crossed the Tennessee River, and had succeeded in be- 
coming a member of a tribe of Indians, whose life he 
enjoyed at its full. Search was made. Sam was found. 
A splendid form, blooming with ruddy youth, dressed 
in the garb and maintaining the airs of a North Ameri- 
can Indian, stood before them. They questioned him 
upon this strange proceeding. I am told that he turned 
squarely around, uttered the war-whoop of his associ- 
ates ; that his brothers shivered, as out of his mouth 
came these remarkable words : "I prefer to measure 
the tracks of the deer rather than your tape. I want 
you to understand that I like the wild liberty of my red- 
faced brothers better than your tyranny. I want you 
to know, that if I cant study Latin in the Academy, I 
can at least read a translation from the Greek in peace, 
here in these woods ; so you can go home as soon as 
you please." 

The family thought he would get sick of it and they 
left him alone. No tidings of his disgust came. Sam 
did not make an appearance until his clothes wore out. 
Then he came home and told them he would take a suit, 
if they would treat him with propriety. For some time 
the superior age of his brothers was controlable. But 
one day, when it did break loose, he returned to the 
woods to enjoy life with the Indian boys and girls, and 
to obtain an idea of their rights and the wrongs they 
have suffered, such as made him the apostle of our duties 
towards them. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 117 

His friends said he was crazy, but history shows that 
from that insanity this Nation gained that which they 
would not have willingly lost, and which was clearly seen 
at the battle of San Jacinto. In 1840, a picture was 
seen in Washington, which was not forgotten soon by 
any who had the pleasure to be present. General 
Moore had arrived with forty wild Indians from Texas. 
At the sight of Sam, who was then General Houston, 
these dusky citizens of the forest rushed to him, em- 
braced him to their naked breasts, fondled him lovingly 
with their brawny fingers, and called him by the endear- 
ing name of father. 

For until his eighteenth year he had remained their 
companion. For clothes, he had gone into debt to the 
pale faces. This debt he proposed to pay by teaching 
school. He who had been taught at an Indian Univer- 
sity, was not expected to be able to teach school in the 
most approved fashion. But he demanded a higher 
price than any body else. His price was eight dollars — 
one-third to be paid in corn delivered at the mill, at 
thirty-three and one-half cents a bushel, one-third in 
cash, and one-third in the homespun cotton cloth of va- 
riegated colors, in which he was to be attired. Imagine 
him, tall, straight and slim, with a long queue behind, 
and utter independence in his face ; and you have Sam 
Houston, the school-teacher. Not a day after his debts 
were paid did he teach school. With a Euclid in his 
pocket, with which he never seemed content to stock 
his brain, he heard the bugle note of 18 13, when Amer- 
ica was preparing for war with her old foe. With a 
young recruiting party Houston enlisted. Some of his 
friends had a touch of aristocracy, and when they spoke 
to him about enlisting as a common soldier, he slammed 
the door of common sense upon it, when he said these 
words: "And what have your craven souls to say 



Il8 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

about the ranks ? Go to, with your stuff. I would 
much sooner honor the ranks, than to dishonor an ap- 
pointment. You dont know me now, but you shall 
hear of me." These words had an echo in the words 
of his mother, when she said at the door of her cottage : 
"There, my son, take this musket, and never disgrace 
it, for remember, I had rather all my sons should fill an 
honorable grave, than that one of them should turn his 
back to save his life. Go, and remember, too, that 
while the door of my cottage is open to brave men, it 
is eternally shut against cowards." 

Promotion soon came. On and on they marched, 
until we find this intrepid man at Tohopeka, or the 
Horseshoe, where some events which this Nation can 
not forget, occurred. 

Long had the Creek Indians, by stealth, tried to 
weary out their foe. General Jackson's army, en- 
camped at Fort Williams, contained more than two 
thousand men. Their spies were out in every direc- 
tion. In the bend of the Horseshoe, the Creeks had 
agreed to follow the words of their prophets, and en- 
gage in open warfare for the settlement of the rule of 
the peninsula. A massive breastwork stretched be- 
tween them and their foes. Jackson no sooner reached 
the Horseshoe than he prepared for action. He had 
cut off escape from three sides of the peninsula. He 
had ordered the artillery to play against the breastworks, 
and a mere play it seemed. The Cherokees, who were 
friendly, and were under command of General Coffee, 
discovered some canoes, captured them, and set fire to 
a cluster of wigwams. It was almost impossible for 
Jackson to restrain his men when they saw the fire. 
They were determined to storm the breastworks. But 
that great General was determined to remove all the 
women and children to safety. Then the rush began. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 119 

Major Montgomery was the first to spring upon the 
breastworks. He was immediately killed. At the 
same instant Houston reached the breastworks, jumped 
with a scream among the Indians, began to make a path 
of blood. No sooner had he reached the ground than 
a barbed arrow struck him in the thigh. But on he 
went, carrying the terrible wound, until in the recoil of 
the warriors, he tried to extract it. He commanded 
his lieutenant to do so, not being able to do it himself. 
Just then he saw that it must be done. The lieutenant 
faltered. He cried out: " Try again, and if you do 
not do it this time I will smite you to the earth." The 
arrow came, leaving a terrible wound. Jackson came, 
ordered him not to return to the fight. Houston would 
have obeyed him, under any other circumstances. But 
he recollected the taunts of the day of his enlistment, 
and was determined to die in that battle or silence for- 
ever the criticism of those what had dare to sneer. In 
a few seconds young Sam Houston was at the head of 
his men, leading their valor in a contest which had now 
become general, and where four thousand eyes were 
glaring the fierceness of the strife into each other, where 
two thousand hearts were beating with courage or throb- 
bing with fear. The thousand warriors were select men. 
Behind them was a strange, ignorant, mighty, religious 
enthusiasm, and not a solitary warrior offered *to surren- 
der, even while the arrows were tearing his flesh and the 
sword was piercing his breast. Dead and dying cov- 
ered the peninsula. Even when the last warrior had 
died, the victory was incomplete. For a large party of 
Indians had hid themselves in the breastworks, and from 
the narrow holes a most murderous fire had been kept 
up. Soldier after soldier fell. General Jackson at last 
called for a body of men to charge upon them. No 
one responded. He called again. The captains stood 



120 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

still. Sam Houston could wait no longer. He called 
upon his soldiers to follow him. He dashed down the 
hill. He jerked a musket from the hands of a hesitat- 
ing man. He sounded his order with an almost super- 
natural voice. The whole breastwork was bristling with 
rifles and arrows. His men hesitated. He stopped to 
rally them. Within five yards of the port holes two 
rifle balls sped with murderous intent, and his arm fell 
broken to his side. He cried piteously for his men to 
charge. But they failed. Houston was carried away 
beyond the range of bullets, and fell a bleeding hero 
upon the earth. Dark night came. What he supposed 
to be his dying hour was lonely and deserted. The deep 
feelings of disappointment ruled his breast, and he nev- 
er seemed to recover until when, thirty years thereafter, 
Andrew Jackson sent for him to stand at his bedside, while 
he died. The wretchedness of his condition can not be 
imagined, until we knew that it was only lost when he 
reached Knoxville, on his way to report himself ready 
for duty, he heard the glorious news of the battle of 
New Orleans. 

Peace was proclaimed. He was kept in the service 
as lieutenant, and stationed at New Orleans. A life 
full of variety followed. Honor and suffering seemed 
to be his lot, until the next winter, he united with a del- 
egation of Indians at Washington and was met with foul 
slander. African Negroes had been smuggled into the 
Western States. They had been transported from Flor- 
ida, which was then a province of Spain. The friends 
of the smugglers were representatives in Congress. 
The vindication, before the President and the Secretary 
of War, which he made, was complete. He showed 
that he had simply in view the honor of his country. 
His painful wounds made him an object of pity. He 
considered himself unrewarded for his services. He re- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 121 

signed his lieutenancy and faced poverty, with a dim 
prospect of health, resigning all his offices and dignities 
and beginning the study of law in Nashville. Houston, 
as a civilian, is very liable to be sacrificed to Houston 
as the romantic, active, impetuous and daring leader. 
But a single glance into his character would have re- 
vealed facts that the very qualities which made him so 
sublime a leader, also made him capable of the highest 
idea of citizenship. The abilities which made him dare, 
helped him to do. The power which assisted in the 
bearing of a wound, was present with him in his deep- 
est intellectual investigations. 

And as a student of law, young Houston, then 
twenty-four years of age, was a deep and patient think- 
er, a strong and agile investigator, and a complete 
scholar. He sought the philosophical basis of these 
rules of action. He tried to find their secret spring in 
human nature, and in finding their springs here he 
brought to himself a new sense of the dignity of his 
profession. 

I have already spoken of the fundamental defect of 
what is called education. With this, Sam Houston 
had no experience. He was developed into a thinker, 
rather than filled, as a balloon with air, with the facts 
about him. He was a man of action, and the depth of 
his spirit was found by a line of development rather 
than by finding out how much it might hold of dates 
and names. Sam Houston was never overloaded with 
the culture of the schools. And even if we must say 
that he was rough and rude, and scarcely the highest 
type of our modern civilization, still we must acknowl- 
edge that the power of this country in the future will 
be eminently thankful for the accession of such brawny 
strengths to the on-marching energies of men. While 



15 



122 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

he was captain of ideas, he was also captain of the 
forces which they set in motion. 

A few month's study had enabled him to pass a bril- 
liant examination. Obtaining a library on credit, he 
began life as a lawyer, in Lebanon, thirty miles east of 
Nashville. He was soon made district attorney. He 
had such success as to explode, with terrible effect upon 
their authors, the stories of his rawness and verdancy. 
This district attorneyship he soon found in his way, and 
resigned it. He was elected Major General in 1821, 
and in 1823 he was elected to Congress. Twice did he 
fill the position of a representative, and in 1827, the con- 
fidence and gratitude of the people placed him in the 
Governor's seat by a majority of over twelve thousand. 
His marriage was unfortunate. An unhappy alliance 
was the beginning of a short matrimonial career. The 
darkest jealousy gave foundation and credence to the 
meanest and most impossible of representation, and the 
State was filled with the deepest excitement concerning 
the termination of this alliance. His private character 
was attacked. The State was divided, and in the mean- 
time Houston offered no word of denial. With a grand- 
er manhood than is popular, he heard himself charged 
with every species of crime. He said : " This is a pain- 
ful, but it is a private affair. I do not recognize the 
right of the public to interfere in it. And I shall treat 
the public just as though it had never happened. And 
remember that, whatever may be said by the lady or her 
friends, it is no part of the conduct of a gallant, or a 
generous man, to take up arms against a woman. If 
my character can not stand the shock, let me lose it. 
The storm will soon sweep by, and time will be my vin- 
dicator." He resolved, since he had been elected to 
every office by acclamation, that he would resign instant- 
ly, forego all his prospects, and make himself an exile, 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 123 

and the wretched journals of the day pounced upon his 
innocence and generosity like a fierce eagle swooping 
from the clouds and tearing an infant from a mother's 
arms. He fled to the forests. He found a home of 
which History has said little. 

He recollected the old chief, who, in his boyhood 
exile, had called him his son. This tribe had removed 
to Arkansas. Eleven years had separated them. But 
nothing could keep Houston from finding the face of his 
old friend. 

The scene was almost as touching as his separation 
from his friends at the steamboat, when the leaders of 
Tennessee saw that beautiful young man resolutely seek- 
ing obscurity, throwing aside the wreath of fame, cast- 
ing off robes of office which he had never dishonored, 
going into the forest to wait until his enemies had been 
silenced by tongues which he knew would soon break 
forth in his praise, and to nurse his mighty strength for 
the new issues with which he had to deal. 

The scene at the home of the chieftain was not less 
beautiful, suggestive or pathetic. It was the venerable 
old chief Oolvoteka. Sixty-five years had fled over 
him, but in the declining day he showed no weakness 
or age. His grace was the grace of strength, and his 
dignity was the dignity of power. A large and com- 
fortable wigwam covered his simple but happy life. 
Twelve servants cared for him on his large plantation, 
and many hundred head of cattle grazed upon his am- 
ple fields. Kindness, hospitality, and love for the op- 
pressed ruled that wigwam. 

Here Houston found a home. Here the old chief 
met him with warm embraces. With the tremulousness, 
which comes from a soul filled with affection and pity, 
he uttered to the happy Houston these tender words : 
"My son, eleven winters have passed since we met. 



124 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

My heart has wandered often where you were ; and I 
heard you were a great chief among your people. Since 
we parted at the falls, as you went up the river, I have 
heard that a dark cloud had fallen in the white path you 
were walking, and when it fell in your way you turned 
your thoughts to my wigwam. I am glad of it— it was 
done by the Great Spirit. There are many wise men 
among your people, and they have many counsellors in 
your nation. We are in trouble, and the Great Spirit 
has sent you to us to give us counsel and take away 
trouble from us. I know you will be our friend, for 
our hearts are near to you, and you will tell our sorrows 
to the great Father, General Jackson. My wigwam is 
yours — my home is yours — my people are yours — rest 
with us. " Is it a wonder that Houston felt at home 
after such an affectionate greeting ? Three years did he 
pass among the Cherokees. Truly and faithfully did he 
serve the cause of the oppressed and outraged Indian. 
He, somehow, had a natural love for these children of 
the forest. He was accustomed, years after, to tell with 
earnestness and enthusiasm many incidents which led 
him to conclude that very few people had been betrayed 
or deceived by these citizens of nature. Here he de- 
termined not only to keep himself intelligent of their 
wrongs concerning the character of the red man, but to 
guard their rights and develop to the nation the human- 
ity which should make it more honorable and them 
more happy. 

Thus Sam Houston began his career, as the relent- 
less scrutinizer of all the Indian agents, the severest 
opponent of those who did them wrong, the earnest 
friend of those who sought to protect their rights. 
Often did the chief counsel him. The closest acquaint- 
ance did he maintain with their affairs. 

He ascertained, that by the treaty for their lands on 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 125 

the Arkansas, they were to receive twenty-eight dollars 
each. He ascertained further, that the agents had 
made the pretense that they had no money, and instead, 
certificates had been issued by the agents. These, the 
Indians had been informed, were worthless, and certain 
interested parties bought them up at a merely nominal 
price. Afterwards General Houston, who dared to 
speak the truth, uttered these pregnant words, before 
a convocation of men whose successors I am frank to 
say, have been as faithless to the plighted fidelity of 
our government as themselves : " During the period of 
my residence among the Indians, in the Arkansas re- 
gion, I had every facility for gaining a complete knowl- 
edge of the flagrant outrages practiced upon the poor 
red men by the agents of the government. I saw every 
year, vast sums squandered and consumed, without the 
Indians deriving the least benefit, and the government, 
in very many instances, utterly ignorant of the wrong 
that was perpetrated. Had one-third of the money ad- 
vanced by the government been usefully, honora- 
bly and wisely applied, all those tribes might have been 
now in possession of the arts and enjoyment of civiliza- 
tion. I care not what dreamers and politicians and 
travelers and writers say to the contrary, I know the In- 
dians' character, and I confidently avow that if one- 
third of the many millions of dollars our government 
has appropriated within the last twenty-five years for 
the benefit of the Indian population, had been honestly 
and judiciously applied, there would not have been at 
this time, a single tribe within the limits of our states 
and territories, but what would have been in the com- 
plete enjoyment of all the arts and all the comforts of 
civilized life. But there is not a tribe but what has 
been outraged and defrauded, and nearly all the wars 
we have prosecuted against the Indians have grown out 



126 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

of the vast frauds played upon them by our fndian 
agents and their accomplices. But the purposes for 
which these vast annuities and enormous contingent ad- 
vances were made, have only led to the destruction of 
the constitutions of thousands, and the increase of im- 
morality among the Indians. We cannot measure the 
desolating effect of intoxicating liquors among the In- 
dians, by any analogy drawn from civilized life. With 
the red man, the consequences are a thousand times 
more frightful. Strong drink, when once introduced 
among the Indians, unnerves the purposes of the good, 
and gives energy to the passions of the vicious : it saps 
the constitution with fearful rapidity, and inflames all 
the ferocity of the savage nature. The remoteness of 
their situation excludes them from all the benefits which 
might arise from a thorough knowledge of their con- 
dition by the President, who only hears one side of the 
story, and that, too, told by his own creatures, whose 
motive for seeking for such stations are often only to be 
able to gratify their cupidity and avarice. The Presi- 
dent should be careful to whom Indian agencies are 
given. If there are trusts under our government where 
honest and just men are needed, they are needed in 
such places ; where peculation and fraud can be more 
easily perpetrated than any where else. For in the far- 
off forests beyond the Mississippi, where we have ex- 
iled those unfortunate tribes, they can perpetrate their 
crimes and their outrages, and no eye but the Almighty's 
sees them." 

This was one of the bravest speeches of Houston's 
life. He had got at the facts by living among them, 
and he had the inspiration of duty to declare the truth. 
Knowing these frauds, he visited Washington, and five 
agents, and sub-agents were promptly removed. These 
men had their strong friends in Congress. They filled 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 127 

the newspapers of Arkansas with infamy against Sam 
Houston, but he had torn the mask from their faces. 
At this time, General Jackson was more unpopular than 
he had ever been. A majority of Congress was against 
him and were intent on his ruin, but he had gone 
through it all unscathed. Houston was the dear friend 
of the old General, and they swore they would crush 
him. One clearly proven charge which he had made 
against them kindled their hatred into flame. That was, 
that they had been contractors for furnishing Indian 
rations, and that, as a matter of fact, so scanty were the 
provisions to all, that some had even died of starvation. 
This roused all their friends in Congress against him. 
They selected their leader. He was a malignant per- 
sonal enemy of General Jackson, but he wore a mask 
of brazen, shameless hypocrisy. In his place, he rose 
and in a vile speech denounced Houston, and boldly 
intimated that with him, Jackson and the Secretary 
of War were intending to defraud the country. Hous- 
ton had borne it as long as he could. He promised 
that he would rebuke such insolence, and careful indeed 
was this base man to avoid meeting him. But one 
night the villain under cover of darkness, was about to 
attempt to perpetrate his foul deed, when Houston es- 
pied him. He had no weapon but a cane. He asked 
him his name. No sooner had he answered, than the 
cane Was shivered into splinters over his head. A 
pistol was snapped at the breast of Houston, but the 
missing of that fire saved to the country that brave 
heart. 

Four processes were commenced against Houston. 
The House of Representatives was resolved into a judi- 
cial tribunal. The court sat for nearly thirty days. 
Every method of condemnation was tested. The 
wretched business went on until the public mind, recol- 



128 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

lecting the wounded hero, began to plead in his favor. 
The atmosphere was ripe for Houston's speech. It 
came in ringing tones. His eloquence was full of chiv- 
alry. His speech was long and earnest. Its boldness 
and ability seized the country with a grip of power. 
This trial ended in a reprimand to the prisoner from the 
Speaker of the House, which was full of compliment, 
and was a signal triumph to Houston. 

The second process began. Houston's enemy was 
made chairman of the committee at the request of Hous- 
ton, and it was soon found that it would not do to con- 
demn the splendid philanthropy of this noble man. 
For in spite of every possible array, the committee said, 
they were compelled to report that not the slightest evi- 
dence had appeared to sustain the charge. 

Another resolution was introduced to exclude him 
from the lobby, but it met an unhappy death. Anoth- 
er process, and the drama closed. A criminal investi- 
gation was inaugurated. He was fined what he was 
glad to pay for the privilege of shivering his cane on 
the head of hie enemy, and General Jackson remitted 
the fine. 

His return, by way of Tennessee, was a continuous 
ovation. The public mind was touched with sympathy, 
and Tennessee was proud to call him her own. Noth- 
ing, however, could dissuade him from his purpose of 
re-entering the forest. The painful occurrences of the 
past had yielded to the sway of reason, but it was next 
to impossible to make him believe that civilization had 
any need of his services. 

What was his intention ? It was to become a herds- 
man. To live a life of quietude, out of the reach of 
slander. Away from the paganism of civilized life. He 
left his native home, and set out on the first of Decem- 
ber, 1832, with a few companions. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. I29 

This was Sam Houston's entrance into Texas. It is 
not my purpose to recount here what is known to the 
civilized world. I have simply spoken of that period 
of Houston's life in which he received the discipline 
which filled him to lead Texas into independence. I 
should be repeating the merest common places of his- 
tory were I to go farther into the biography of this dis- 
tinguished man. What I have given, are simply the 
lights and shadows of which my readers may not be 
possessed, but which came to me who studied the source 
of influence which still dominates throughout all Texas. 
It is as pervasive as it is strong, and my reader will sup- 
ply the later history of that State which shall show him 
how great were the elements in which this man worked, 
how powerful were the forces with which he had to do. 
A national gallery is not complete without his picture, 
and I should have deemed it a misdemeanor against my 
readers had I not made clear to them, with what little 
information I possessed, the early training of this unique 
man. 



16 



CHAPTER X. 



THE following general notice of my efforts and ideas 
of a life such as my own, may be of such interest 
as to warrant republication from " Prime's Model Farms 
and Their Methods "; 

SOLOMON J. WOOLLEY, HILLIARD, FRANKLIN COUNTY. 

Tiling — How to Make Drains — Depth — Laterals — Velocity of Water 
— Cost of Draining per Acre- -Pastures — Cattle — Sheep— Hogs 
— Horses — Rotation of Crops — Manures, 

APPLEDALE FARM. 

Twenty-three years ago, I came to what was then the 
wettest and most neglected portion of Franklin County, 
and purchased six hundred acres of heavily timbered 
swamp land. I deadened four hundred acres at once, 
and in the course of time rented to all who wanted, 
from twenty to forty acres of land, for the term of five 
years, with the understanding that at the expiration of 
the lease the land was all to be cleared of timber. 

TILING. 

I at once commenced a system of drainage, which I 
have continued ever since, draining with tile as I had 
money to spare, always laying the tile myself, and mak- 
ing sure that every tile was laid exactly right. 

Although there are fifteen miles of tile drains on my 
farm, the low, wet and swaley lands have been drained 
with round tile, (which I consider the best,) at a depth 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 131 

of from three to six feet, and some of the dry land at 
a depth of from three to four feet, and laid from six to 
eight rods apart. On the black, wet, swaley land, it 
has paid many fold, while on the clay land my most 
sanguine expectations have been more than realized. 

HOW TO MAKE DRAINS. 

The distance between drains must be determined by 
the na?ure of the soil, their depth, and the amount of 
fall. A loose, porous soil will permit water to reach 
the drains for a long distance, while a tough, compact 
clay is almost impervious to water, and requires them to 
be made much nearer. In a black, loose soil, drains at 
the depth of four feet are sufficient at a depth of ten 
rods apart; but if the land is a hard-pan or a stiff clay, 
to drain it thoroughly the distance apart should be from 
four to six rods. 

But few persons realize the great advantage that deep 
drains have over shallow ones. In my ^extensive ac- 
quaintance among drainers, I know of but few that drain 
to a depth averaging over one and a half to three feet, 
whereas a depth of three to eight feet should always be 
obtained. An orchard or vineyard, for example, should 
never be drained less than eight feet deep. The time is 
probably not far distant when shallow drains will be tak- 
en up and put down again at a proper depth. Persons 
often say that it costs too much to drain so deep, when 
the fact is the cost is less. For instance, it would cost 
but very little more to dig two drains to the depth of 
four feet than it would to dig three to the depth of two 
and a half feet, and the two deep drains will drain fully 
as much land as the three shallow, and will drain it 
much better, and save the expense of the third line of 
tile. 



132 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 



BUT THE DEPTH OF DRAINS 

Is not always a matter of choice, as very often the out- 
let is not sufficient, and I have very often noticed that 
persons are sometimes extremely contrary about giving 
their neighbors above them an outlet. In making an 
improvement of this kind, that is to last for all time to 
come, it is much better to secure a good outlet in the 
first place, if it does cost something more, especially if 
the land is flat and you have but little fall ; but in all 
cases it is best to have a good outlet, so that the water 
will fall from six to twelve inches when it leaves the tile. 
However, a tile drain that is properly made will not fill 
up ; if the outlet does fill up fifteen or twenty inches 
the water will boil up like a spring and keep the tile 
washed out. If you have a good fall, say twelve inches 
to the hundred feet, a five-inch tile will carry off as 
much water as a six-inch tile will if the fall is but four 
inches to the hundred feet ; the greater the fall the more 
rapidly the water will flow, and a smaller-size tile will 
answer. One great consideration in draining land is to 
get the greatest amount of water off in the shortest 
time possible, with the least expense ; but a great many 
persons that I have noticed draining do the opposite of 
this. 

I had an open ditch on my farm which drained a 
stream which flowed naturally in the shape of an S ; the 
ditch was cut six feet wide and three feet deep. In 
putting tile in this ditch I commenced at the lower end 
as deep as the outlet would allow, which was nearly four 
feet. I graded this ditch nearly on a level, giving it 
just enough fall so the water would run, and continued 
to give it more fall as I advanced up stream, but instead 
of following the open ditch in the shape of an S, I cut 
the S across, shortening the distance nearly one-half, by 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 133 

which means I gave the ditch nearly twice the fall it 
had in following the S-shape, although I had to cut 
through two ridges, one six and the other ten feet deep, 
but the amount that was saved in tile by this cut-off 
more than twice paid for digging this deep ditch. By 
the time I had dug this ditch three-quarters of a mile it 
had plenty of fall, and then had a depth at the lowest 
place, of over four feet ; a quarter of a mile further (be- 
ing my upper line,) I gave it a good fall, making it at 
the upper end two and a half feet deep ; I gave it this 
fall so that the pressure of the water above would force 
it rapidly out below, where the fall was less. I con- 
tinued three six-inch tile in this ditch all the way, 
branching the other four off as they were needed. 

Another big open ditch, that I converted into a tile 
drain, which carried nearly as much water as the first, I 

DRAINED IN A DIFFERENT MANNER, 

Which I like much better than the first. I commenced 
at the lower end, at the depth of four and a half feet. 
This ditch was so meandering that a straight line would 
save half the distance. Commencing with four eight- 
inch tile, which I laid side by side for a few rods, I then 
branched them off at a distance of about four rods apart, 
continuing them about this distance until near the upper 
end, when I brought them nearer together to take all 
the water of the swale. As I advanced up stream I 
used smaller tile. 

All four of these drains cut across the old open ditch 
and its tributaries several times. My object in making 
this drain in this way was to drain a large amount of 
land with a few tile and get the water off as quickly 
as possible. If I had put all these tile in one drain 
they would have carried only the same amount of water, 
and would have drained only one-fourth as much land 



1 34 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

• 

as they do now. In digging the drains I had to cut 
through a few ridges six to eight feet deep, but for all 
it is the cheapest and best-drained land I have. By 
tiling the open ditches I not only save thirty feet of the 
best land on the farm, but save the cleaning of the ditch 
out every year, which, if tramped with cattle, would 
cost nearly as much as a new ditch ; besides, I get the 
fields in good shape, and save the lives of a great many 
sheep, which are lost every year by the open ditches, 
also the young of other animals. 

In draining, always remember that whenever you 
make a cut-off, although it may cost a little more to dig 
the drain, you not only save the tile but you get more 
fall, the water off quicker, and the land better drained ; 
however, in some cases the ridges are too high to dig 
through, and laterals must be used. 

THE LATERALS OR SIDE DRAINS, 

As they enter the main drain, should be made to enter 
at an acute angle, pointing down stream. Experience 
shows, that if their current enters square across that of 
the main drain, one or the other stream is liable to be 
arrested, and sand or gravel deposited, injuring the wa- 
ter-course. The tile drain emptying into the main 
should have a fall of at least six inches, and the more 
the better, although, I do not believe in having many 
laterals, but the smaller the number of outlets the bet- 
ter. In draining six hundred acres of land I have but 
twelve outlets. 

HOW TO LAY THE DRAIN. 

Before I had much experience in draining, I would 
dig my drain the whole length and commence at the up- 
per end and lay the tile down stream, but I have learned 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 135 

from experience that the opposite of this is best. Al- 
ways begin at the lower end, and lay your tile as the 
ditch is dug ; stand on the tile in laying them, and turn 
them until the joints fit, hitting them after with your 
boot-heel so as to keep them close together ; lay broken 
pieces of tile over the joints where they do not fit, and 
cover the tile as you lay them with a few inches of clay 
out of the bottom of the ditch, to keep the loose soil 
from washing in at the joints ; after which fill in with as 
much top soil as possible ; it will facilitate the descent 
of the water. 

On leaving the drain at any time, put a board or flat 
stone at the upper end so as to keep rubbish from wash- 
ing in, and on finishing the drain at the upper end it 
must be well closed. The last tile at the lower end 
should be twice as long as the others, having holes 
through the end, not over an inch apart, with wires, so 
as to keep all animals out of the drain ; and there should 
be a stone wall built across over the mouth of the drain, 
laid up with lime and sand, or cement, so as to keep the 
muskrats from digging holes up along the tile. I have 
known them to dig holes on top of the tile to a distance 
of thirty feet, which would form a water-course in time 
of a freshet, and wash the dirt from off the tile. 

To know the size of the tile needed, learn all you can 
about drainage, and use your own judgment. One 
eight-inch tile will carry off as much water as an open 
ditch four feet wide and two feet deep, and is sufficient 
for an outlet for fifty acres. Never continue tile of the 
same size all the way. Whenever a lateral comes in, a 
smaller tile will do from that point on, and so on. It 
must be borne in mind that the tile is taking water all 
the time, at every joint. The tile at the end that has 
holes in it, should be a size larger than the others, as 



I36 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

the wires will impede the flow of the water to some 
extent. 

HOW TO GRADE THE DRAIN. 

This is the most important feature of drainage, and 
should always be done with water, as there is no level 
for this purpose equal to water. I have learned from 
experience that it is almost a useless expense to get an 
engineer ; he can tell you how deep to cut through the 
ridge to give the water an outlet for a certain depth 
above, but this will not help any about grading the bot- 
tom of the ditch, and if y )u get the drain deeper above 
than it is below, just that much will it fill up. You 
must know that a drain can be very easily ruined by not 
being graded correctly. 

There can be no question in regard to the best form 
of tile. At first, the horseshoe tile was made semi-cir- 
cular in shape, and without a bottom. Next, the sole 
tile, of the same shape as the horseshoe, but having a 
flat bottom. Then the pipe tile, which is circular, and 
has many advantages, among them the possibility of 
being laid true on the bottom, however it may be 
warped or crooked in burning. Horseshoe tile should 
never be used, as they will be filled with crawfish and 
become useless. Tile are usually made twelve and a 
half inches long, or intended to be, but they are seldom 
over twelve inches. I have used a great many of this 
length, and found, on taking them up, that in several 
places where a stone was removed in the bottom of the 
drain, that one end of the tile had sunken and the other 
end raised up, which would leave quite an aperture for 
dirt to wash in. I found a remedy for this by getting 
a longer cut-off, and making my tile fifteen inches long, 
which I find are superior to the short ones in several 
respects. 



MM 



■■■■ 



ii :■:;;:: 






M,m [ llliillllillililli 



__ 




S. J. WOOLLEY. 137 

DEPTH OF DRAINS. 

I have often been asked why I drain so deep. I do 
so to get the full benefit of my land. After cultivating 
wheat I dug down to the tile drain six feet deep, and 
found plenty of wheat roots at that depth. Beech land, 
which is a hard pan that the roots of none of our crops 
can enter, after being drained and frozen, becomes loose 
and mellow to nearly the depth of the drain, and twice 
the amount of grain can be raised on the same land. I 
found a few swamps composed of vegetable mold that 
became so light, loose and chaffy after draining, that it 
would not produce, but after plowing these swamps 
twenty inches deep, throwing the subsoil to the top, it 
became the most productive land that I had. 

WHAT KIND OF LAND NEEDS DRAINING. 

I doubt if a piece of land could be found which would 
not be benefited by draining, so that we might truth- 
fully say that all lands need it, the only possible excep- 
tion being those that have a gravelly or sandy subsoil. 

On visiting a friend some years since, I found him 
draining a wet, springy piece of land at the foot of a 
hill. He was digging his drain about eighteen inches 
deep ; he said that he had read that it was no use to 
make the drain deeper than the veins. I tried to get 
him to make his drain four feet, as he had a good outlet, 
and finally he put them in three feet ; and on examining 
them several years after, I found that the water veins 
had sunk to the bottom of the drain, and this piece of 
wet and useless land had become the most valuable on 
his farm, and at the end .of his tile drain was a living 
spring of pure water that never froze over, which was 
valuable for his stock. 

The water from tile drains is the purest that we have, 
17 



I38 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

and is the best for culinary purposes ; and where the 
land lies in such a shape that it can be used for stock, 
it is the best water that we have for that purpose. 

DRAINAGE FOR HEALTH ABOUT A HOME. 

It should be remembered that the well is the outlet 
for at least ten rods in all directions. I have known 
whole families to die, and it was said to be the mysteri- 
ous providence of God, when it was nothing but the 
cesspools, barn-yards, cow-stables, pig-pens, and slops 
of the house, all emptying their foulness into the well. 

The soil lying between the source of impurity and 
the well has a certain amount of cleansing power, and 
while effective, withholds the impurity, but, by degrees, 
it becomes foul further and further on ; and this insid- 
ious process of fouling the semi-porous earth with im- 
purity, inch by inch, continues, until, in time, it reaches 
the well, and then every drop that flows through this 
soil carries with it its atoms of filth, causing fevers and 
death. Therefore, deep drains should be made between 
the well and all places of filth. As the matter is one 
of great importance, involving doctors' bills, sickness, 
and death, it should have careful attention. 

ITS SINGLE DISADVANTAGE. 

Perhaps it is only fair to mention one disadvantage 
that comes from drainage. If a swampy piece of wood- 
land is suddenly drained, most of the old timber will 
die ; the oaks and hickorys will go first. The change 
is first noticed in the tops of the trees. However, the 
young timber soon accommodates itself to the change, 
and after a time grows more thriftily than ever. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 139 

VELOCITY OF WATER IN TILE DRAINS. 

From the many experiments that I have made to as- 
certain, as nearly as possible, the velocity of water in 
tile drains, I find that in a six-inch tile, with a fall of 
four inches to the hundred feet, when the tile was run- 
ning full of water, it was eight rods per minute, when 
running half full, six rods per minute, and the less water 
there was in the tile the slower it would run. The ve- 
locity of a twelve-inch tile when running full would be 
swifter than this, while in the smaller sizes it would not 
be so swift, and in an open ditch of the same fall the 
velocity is four times less than that of a tile drain. 

SOLID AND POROUS TILE. 

I do not see any advantage in using porous tile. Solid 
tile is stronger in all respects, and will not burst and 
crumble like porous tile from wet and freezing. If 
porous tile is full of water, and freezes, it is sure to 
expand, and break and crumble. Some say that tile 
should be porous, so as to let the water into the drain. 
If there were no other places for the water to enter the 
drain except by the pores, the land would be poorly 
drained. Now, for example, take any sized tile you 
please, having the sixteenth of an inch at every joint 
(the space at the joints is really greater than this,) and, 
count it up for thirty rods, you find that the water 
can get in at the joints many times faster than it can 
get out at the outlet; and if your drain is a few hund- 
red rods long, the capacity for getting in, is over a hund- 
red times greater than that for getting out. 

THE STOPPAGE OF TILE DRAINS. 

I know of a three-inch tile drain that stopped running, 
and on taking it up there were found over twenty musk- 



I40 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

rats in the drain ; they were so swelled that no water 
could pass them. But roots are the most troublesome, 
sycamore and willow being the most dangerous, though 
elm, ash, alder, and some others are attracted by water. 
Old trees are not so apt to injure drains as young and 
free-growing trees. Deep drains are not only the best, 
but are nothing like so apt to be closed by animals and 
roots. Shallow drains are very often closed by the roots 
of grass and other growing crops. I have never known 
a drain so deep that the roots of growing crops could 
not reach it. 

WHAT IT COSTS PER ACRE TO DRAIN. 

A field of forty rods square, or ten acres, had four 
drains put across it from side to side. In these drains 
were laid four-inch tile for the first twenty rods, costing 
thirty -five cents per rod ; three-inch for the next fifteen 
rods, costing twenty-five cents per rod ; and the last five 
rods were two-inch, costing fifteen cents per rod, aggre- 
gating a cost of tile for one drain of eleven dollars and 
fifty cents ; digging the drain at twenty cents per rod, 
eight dollars ; laying the tile and filling the ditch, four 
cents per rod, one dollar and sixty cents ; making the 
total cost for draining the ten acres, eighty-four dollars 
and forty cents. 

I have never known a man to lose his farm by bor- 
rowing money at ten per cent, to drain it, but I know 
of several farmers who have lost their farms by paying 
ten per cent, for money to build with. However, I 
would not advise any one to pay ten per cent, for money 
to improve a farm with. 

WATER. 

The first thing to be looked after is the convenience 
and supply of good water. I have never seen a better 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 141 

arrangement for a water supply than my own, on Ap- 
pledale farm. The house stands on an elevation, and 
the house-well supplies the farm. The water is impreg- 
nated with black sulphur and iron, and is very healthy 
for stock. I have never had a sick animal or called a 
doctor. 

The water is raised by a windmill, which saves a hand, 
and nearly pays for itself every year. The water is car- 
ried in iron pipes, three hundred feet, to the west, and 
same to the east barnyard, also carried through the milk 
house to the hog lot. 

There are no. slops thrown out from the kitchen to 
ferment in the soil and create sickness. There are deep 
drains about the well, and the well is cemented from the 
hard boulder clay to the surface, so there is no possibil- 
ity of any filth which would breed disease getting into it. 

PASTURES. 

The best pastures are those that have never been 
plowed, and blue grass, which is a natural growth here, 
is the best and richest pasture that we have, and the 
older the sod is, the more feed it seems to yield. I use 
cjover for hog pasture. # 

A timothy meadow, which I raise only for hay, will 
last from eight to twelve years, at which time the blue 
grass will have possession . There is but little use for hay. 
In the fall of 1879, m y ^ ue g rass pasture was well grown, 
so that I let my milk cows run on it all winter, and they 
have done well with but little feed. Cattle that are kept 
up all winter should not have their feed cut off at once 
and turned to grass. I know some farmers that do this 
always, which produces scours in their cattle, and results 
invariably in a loss. I commence to feed my cattle and 
sheep grain a few weeks before they are turned on grass, 
and continue the grain several weeks afterwards. 



142 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

It is well for farmers to be posted on the different 
breeds of cattle. The Short-Horns, of recent origin, 
hold a high place in the esteem of many breeders, hav- 
ing been produced by careful selection, and high-feeding 
and care. I have allowed these fine large breeds to run 
for several years with the common natives, receiving no 
more care, feed or shelter, and in several years no one 
could tell the difference between them and the best of 
the natives. 

DEVONS. 

But not so with the Devons, which are the oldest dis- 
tinct breed of cattle known. The Devons will not run 
out by neglect or exposure, but under all circumstances, 
and in all climates, maintain their beautiful form and red 
color, and uniformity of appearance in every feature, 
shape of horns, tail, etc. Their flesh is finely inter- 
spersed with alternate fat and lean, and of superior fla- 
vor. The cows yield richer milk, and if properly fed 
will produce more butter and cheese for the feed con- 
sumed. Although they are not a large breed, they will 
produce more pounds of beef for the feed consumed 
than other animals. Steers, when properly cared for, 
will weigh from two to three thousand pounds. They 
make the best work oxen we have, being fast walkers, 
docile, and inoffensive, and not inclined to be breechy. 

SHEEP. 

The most profitable breed of sheep depends on the 
location. If near a large city, the South-Downs are de- 
cidedly the best. They hold the same relation to the 
sheep family that the Devons do to cattle. They will 
do well on short pasture, attain early maturity, and are 
hardy and prolific; they are not long-lived sheep, like 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 143 

the Merinos, but are in their prime at three ; for mut- 
ton, they are superior to all other sheep. I sold my 
lambs last July and August, weighing from forty to 
seventy-five pounds, at two dollars and a half per head. 
When well kept and cared for, they will average five 
pounds of combing wool, bringing the highest price. 
They, like the Devon cattle, transmit their blood in the 
strongest degree. Wethers, at three years, will weigh 
two hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds, and are 
more easily fattened than Merinos. But for wool, the 
Merinos are the most profitable, as they will herd better 
than any other sheep. 

If I raised but one kind of stock, it would be sheep ; 
they enrich the farm faster than other stock, dropping 
the manure mostly on the highest places, where it is 
needed, and return the most money for labor expended. 
Every farmer should keep a few sheep any way, as they 
are good to kill weeds and briars. 

HOGS. 

Although hogs are the most prominent in all the rich 
corn-growing regions of the West, and will return more 
money, they require much more labor. It is hard work 
from beginning to end, and is very exhaustive to the 
land. A man that has but a small farm will do better 
to produce hogs only. The Poland, China and Berk- 
shire are the leading breeds. 

HORSES. 

A bank or basement stable is not a healthy or fit place 
to keep horses. My stable is at the south end of the 
barn, with half-doors in the south to let the rays of the 
sun in and for ventilation, and to throw manure out. 
The floor is two feet above ground, and is kept clean, 



144 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

with plenty of straw for bedding — the manure pile being 
hauled away as fast as made. I never tie my horses up, 
or imprison them in any way, but turn them altogether, 
with the stable-door left open, and give them all the 
liberty of the barn-yard, straw stack and water trough, 
and they are always peaceable and happy, and ready for 
their feed. I feed my horses what fodder or hay they 
will eat, twice a day, with two ears of corn twice a day, 
increasing the feed as the working season of spring ap- 
proaches, but never feeding over nine ears. Change 
their feed often in hot weather, and give them a table 
spoonful of salt, with hickory wood ashes every other 
day in the corner of the trough, but never on their feed. 
Never keep more horses than you need. I keep from 
ten to fifteen head, and give them no condition powders 
or other poisonous drugs, and have never had one of 
them sick. A barn-yard well, that takes in all the filth 
of the barn-yard, is a source of disease among stock. I 
always warm the bridle-bits before' putting them in the 
horses' mouths. If you think the bits are not cold 
enough to hurt their mouths, touch them to your tongue 
and see. 

ROTATION OF CROPS 

Is necessary on all kinds of land, although I have known 
thirty crops of corn to be raised on our rich lands in 
succession, the last crop being forty bushels to the acre. 
I never raise more than six crops of corn on new land, 
however, and then sow to wheat and grass. I always 
sow a wheat crop after Hungarian grass or oats, but 
never like to sow wheat on a wheat stubble. On clay 
land sown to wheat, I seed clover and let it remain two 
years, then plow under when in bloom, planting to corn 
the next spring, so that the field will do to seed to wheat 
in the fall. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 145 

PLOWING. 

A man should not plow simply to get the best results 
for the present crop, but should plow to have the best 
crops in all the coming years ; and the only way to do 
this is to plow deep, though not all at one time, but 
keep getting deeper every year. The best results are 
obtained in our rich clay lime soils, by subsoiling with 
a regular subsoil plow, except put a narrow mold-board 
on that will throw a part of the subsoil to the surface. 
It is best to do this in the fall. You can not, however, 
plow to much advantage unless the land is underdrained ; 
but if well underdrained, subsoiling is a great success. 

PLANTING AN ORCHARD. 

Plant but few varieties of the best apples suited to 
your climate, and most of them late-keeping, firm, hard, 
winter varieties, such as bear well. Buy the trees of the 
nearest nursery. Rome Beauty, Broadwell, Tallawater, 
Liberty, Seek-no-further, are good winter apples ; Beth- 
lehemite is the best fall apple, and Danvers Winter 
Sweet is the best fall sweet apple, the former being the 
best keepers, but small or medium. 

Prepare the land for planting by subsoiling, throwing 
the furrows out at thirty feet apart, and put plenty of 
the top soil for the roots to feed on ; raise a cultivated 
crop, potatoes the best, until the trees are grown, but 
always keep the land level ; plow first one way and then 
the other. When your trees are large enough, sow to 
grass. Shape the top of your trees while young, and 
then trim no more. 

MANURES. 

It has been said by many farmers that manure was the 
farmer's capital ; but such is not the case, at least in the 
18 



I46 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

great West. Drain Tile is the farmer's capital, and as 
I have very fully given my views and ideas upon the 
subject, I will now say a few words upon manures. 
When I travel over the fair and beautiful land of Ohio, 
and behold its fine mansions and well-arranged farms, I 
suppose that the farmers possess a vast amount of agri- 
cultural knowledge ; but on making a close observation 
of their farms, and asking a thousand questions about 
the high and noble calling that they are engaged in, and 
how they manage things generally, I am often surprised 
to find that they do not understand the first principle 
of agriculture, which is to keep the land up to a high 
state of fertility. I have often seen farmers committing 
the suicidal act of burning their straw, and raking up 
their corn-stalks and burning them. A man who does 
this is a robber and a thief, who takes from the land its 
fertility without returning it. To keep up such a sys- 
tem of farming as this would certainly impoverish the 
coming generations, and destroy any countr}/ or any 
nation. 

HOW TO SAVE AND MAKE MANURE. 

The urine of animals contains a very large amount of 
nitrogen, the thing most needed for plant food, and, 
though the richest and best part of the manure, it goes 
to waste on most farms. To save this valuable manure, 
I have the floor of my cow-stable tight, with a close 
drain at the back part of it, and have my straw-stack 
near to give the cattle plenty of bedding, which will 
absorb all the urine ; then, as fast as the manure accu- 
mulates, both at the cow and horse stable, I haul it to 
the fields, and lay it in piles until wanted. But the most 
practical way for the mass of farmers to save the greater 
part of the urine, is to let the stock run to the straw- 
stack, with plenty of straw for them to stand on while 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 147 

eating, and lie on. In this way a great part of the urine 
will be absorbed and retained by the straw. 

If the straw-stack is not all used up by spring, tear it 
down and let your cattle lie upon it at night during the 
summer, if possible. Every thing on the farm that will 
make manure should be looked after for that purpose. 
Corn fodder should be fed out in racks in the barn-yard. 
By this means a large amount of valuable manure is 
made, with most of the urine retained in it, as the cattle 
will keep on the stocks in preference to going in the 
mud. I gather all the bones and put them in the bot- 
tom of the ash-leachery ; they do not injure the lye for 
soap, but are dissolved, making rich fertilizers. All the 
wood ashes should be saved and spread about the fruit 
trees, especially the peach. Unleached ashes are rich 
in potash, and valuable for fruit or potatoes. Leached 
ashes contain a large amount of calcium, and are valua- 
ble food for crops of all kinds. 



CHAPTER XI 



FARM NOTES. 

FROM time to time my articles have appeared in the 
Ohio Farmer. Some of the most interesting are 
published in this chapter of farm notes. 

USEFULNESS OF BIRDS. 

• 

I see many good things in the Ohio Farmer; in fact, 
it is full of useful knowledge to the farmer. But there 
is one great farm interest that is not properly looked 
after, and even some farmers themselves are so blind to 
their own interest, that they will kill, and allow others 
to kill, without mercy, innocent and useful birds, their 
friends, their co-workers and helpers. If the birds were 
all killed, our land would be worse than a desert, and 
noxious insects would meet us at every point. 

"The disturbance of the proper balance between the 
feathered and insect tribes, is fraught with incalculable 
mischief, affecting the food, the health and life of man." 
They are not only useful in the most material sense, but 
they are a source of pleasure and beauty, clothed with 
a softer plumage than the texture of cashmere, and 
more brilliant than the dyer's richest hues — the flight is 
the poetry of motion, and their voices are sweeter and 
more cheering than all instruments of art. 

Let the birds live and sing to cheer the farmer. In 
the sweat of his face he earns his bread. With the ge- 
nial springs, its balmy airs, sunshine, and gushing bird 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 149 

songs, his soul rises to new life. Then let the birds live 
to help you in your labors. The bird is the Farmer's 
poet Laureate — well worthy of the sovereign that 
should prove an appreciating friend and patron. The 
most useful bird to the farmer is the quail. They are 
perfectly innocent ; they disturb neither grain nor fruit. 
I have seen quails, in immense flocks, foraging in re- 
cently planted fields, systematically in sections. On 
shooting one no grain was found, nothing but cut- worms 
and insects. 

Wilson (the naturalist,) says a black bird will destroy 
fifty cut-worms daily. Even in winter its food is insects. 
A quail will feast her brood on young grasshoppers, tak- 
ing them in an early stage of their existence, when lit- 
tle larger than a fly. Woodpeckers are constantly seek- 
ing insects in the bark of trees. None but the sap-sucker 
will pierce the green bark to feed upon its juice. Rob- 
ins have been known to eat seventeen caterpillars per 
minute. The spotted woodpecker has been seen to 
probe the gummy hiding places of the borer in the trunk 
and surface roots of the peach, and bring forth and de- 
stroy the pest. 

While the farmer suspends his operations in winter, 
and comfortably occupies the chimney corner, his eto- 
mological assistance, reckless of the cold,' prospects 
among the trees for insects in every crevice of the bark. 
The co-operation of the birds with the farmer, is, there- 
fore, almost uninterrupted by heat, or cold climate, or 
season. The quails eat millions and millions of seeds 
of noxious weeds, saving the farmer an immense amount 
of labor. The birds have been arraigned as plunderers 
of the field and garden, by thoughtless and ignorant 
persons. The charge is not only unjust, but it is un- 
grateful. That they eat a little grain at times, of that 
variety which is essential to health, is not denied; and 



150 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

the red, delicious cherries are, sometimes, too tempting 
for the more impulsive. 

"The laborer is worthy of his hire," is a maxim that 
farmers should respect, and no laborers work so cheap 
as the birds. They provide themselves mainly from 
nature's own domain ; yet claim the right to be fed from 
man's, in payment for services honestly rendered. 

In Ohio, we have a bird law that is strictly enforced ; 
however, it avails nothing. It allows birds to be killed 
during the winter season, and the quails have disap- 
peared to a fearful extent. A few years since, where 
large flocks of this splendid bird could be seen all over 
our land, now there is scarcely a bird to be seen. Like 
the Red Man, they will soon disappear, unless we have 
a stringent law for their protection at all seasons of the 
year. If wicked persons are allowed to slaughter our 
innocent birds without restraint, our land will be swarm- 
ing with insects ; grasshoppers will take our meadows, 
cut-worms will take our corn, bugs will eat our vines, 
and the discord of the locust will be heard on all sides. 

It is really stultifying to see the ignorance displayed 
by some farmers ; they kill the robin for eating a few 
cherries ; they kill the black bird for the few spears of 
corn they imagine he has taken ; their reasoning facul- 
ties are so obtuse, that they do not remember that it 
followed their plow all the spring picking up all the cut- 
worms and other insects that the plow turned over. I 
have been noticing the orchards of these farmers who 
kill all birds that are seen in them, an'd I find them full 
of insects, and on the decay with the apples knotty, and 
full of moths. 

I raise sunflowers in my orchard to toll the birds 
there ; it was full of summer birds late in the fall, and 
now there are hundreds of chickadees in it feeding on 
the sunflower seeds, and hunting the eggs of insects on 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 151 

the fruit trees. I am not troubled with the tent caterpil- 
lar, and my apples are freer from the apple moth and 
other insect defects than those of my neighbors. This, 
I will be happy to prove to any and all persons that will 
visit my orchard at the proper season. I have learned 
by experience, that those persons who do not respect 
the rights of birds, neither respect the rights of their 
neighbors. 

A man who could not get leave of his conscience, to 
go to his neighbor's hen roost, and steal his poultry, 
will nevertheless range over his neighbor's farm, kill the 
quails and other game ; throw down his fences and shoot 
among his stock, if a bird would happen to be in that 
direction. Mr Lane, a few miles from this place, had 
a lot of cattle frightened by bird hunters shooting 
among them, and lost several hundred dollars by it Mr. 
Richards, near here, had his team shot by hunters, while 
gathering his corn, which caused his horses to run and 
do much damage. I have heard of three other farmers 
who had their stock fired into by bird hunters in this 
section, and this is the smallest part of the damage done. 
It is not pleasant to have persons prowling over your 
farm, making common of your property and violating 
your sacred rights. The farmer has the heaviest end of 
the burden to bear, to keep up the laws and institutions 
of his State ; for this reason, if no other, the laws should 
protect his rights to the farthest extent. A man's farm 
and all that is on it, should be his own. 

Late in autumn, when the farmer has his team and 
hands in the field gathering his crop, it costs something 
to leave his team, at the sound of every bird hunter's 
gun that he hears, and go to the different parts of his 
farm and order them off; it is not only the loss of his 
time and the loss of his birds, but the vexatious arro- 
gance and loss of temper. I have often felt my equa- 



152 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

nimity disturbed, and felt nervous, twitching of the mus- 
cles of my right leg, and a desire to apply the argumen- 
tum adposteriorem with the toe of my boot. 

The Sabbath day is often made hideous by the yelp- 
ing of dogs and bird hunter's gun. This not only makes 
the God-fearing man feel sorrowful, but it is a bad rec- 
ommendation for the neighborhood. I could write a 
volume about the wrongs and the injustice of the game 
laws of Ohio, but, Mr. Editor, I am afraid I will draw 
too much on your valuable space. I have conversed 
with a great many farmers on this question, and find 
universally that it is their desire to have the game laws 
amended, and the time restricted for killing game birds 
to about ten days in the year, and then not on the premi- 
ses of other persons without the owner's consent. 

To make sure of having the game laws amended, 
there should be one or more petitions, with a number of 
names sent from every township in the State, asking the 
Legislature to amend the game laws as you wish, and 
should be directed to the Representative from your 
county. 



FUTURE OF CATTLE RAISING IN OHIO. 

Farmers who expect to raise beef cattle in Ohio, in 
anticipation of high prices, will most likely be disappoint, 
ed. Cattle are too easily and cheaply raised on the 
sweet grasses of the extensive prairies of the South, 
west, and the transportation from there to the eastern 
market, will soon be too easily performed for this latitude 
to think of competing with. 

The writer of this, having spent ten years of his life 
on the Texas prairies, considers himself posted as to 
the price of raising cattle there. 

Those who have not seen these far off regions, can 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 153 

have but little conception of its vastness, and its adapt- 
edness to the raising of cattle. 

As you leave Jefferson, in Eastern Texas, and go west 
fifty miles through the tall pines, you come to the prai- 
ries ; and what is the grandeur of the scene that pre- 
sents itself to you ? God's green carpet spread out be- 
fore you in the vast distance, decked with the gaudy and 
brilliant wild flowers of this clime. And on the distant 
green prairies you see herds of cattle, with their large 
heads and broad horns, grazing with the antelope and 
elk. Over these vast green plains, five hundred miles 
to the Rio Grande, interspersed with rippling streams of 
pure living water, the valleys of which are lined with a 
thick growth of timber, affording abundance of water 
and shade for cattle in summer, and shelter from the 
chilling north winds in winter. 

You may leave Galveston and go north, and the same 
extensive, green, undulating, flowering and fragrant 
prairies, present themselves to your view for four hun- 
dred miles, with plenty living streams of water, and 
some springs. There is the spouting spring, eighty 
miles north of Austin, which affords water enough for 
millions of cattle. This spring is near the base of Cedar 
Mountain ; the water spouts up through a crevice in a 
rock, nearly in shape of a five pointed star, and is thrown 
twenty feet high. To see the silver-capped spray ascend- 
ing and descending, and dancing in the pure light of the 
sun, is a sight in these wild regions more grand and 
magnificent than my pen is capable of portraying. 

Besides this vast extent of fertile prairies, there is a 
rich body of wild land extending from Arkansas to the 
spurs of the Rocky Mountains, in extent nearly equal 
to Texas, partly settled with civilized, half civilized 
and wild roaming Indians. We think that in a few years 
the energy of the white man, will subdue this wilder- 

19 



154 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

ness, to the raising of cattle, for which it is so well adapt- 
ed. It costs no more to raise a bullock in Texas that 
will weigh six hundred lbs. , than it does to raise chicken 
in Ohio. There is no provision made in Texas for winter- 
ing cattle. They winter themselves on the rich prairie 
grass. There is not much rain in the fore part of the 
winter ; and the old grass is but little injured, until the 
new crop begins to grow in the spring. 

The common prairie grass of Texas, is of a less growth 
than the grass of our western prairies, and is of a finer 
quality. In the southwest part of Texas the moskete 
grass is found. It is of a luxuriant growth and resembles 
the English blue grass, the lower part remaining green all 
winter. The fattening properties of this is equal to our 
tame grasses. 

Texas is capable of producing, at least twenty-five 
cattle, where she now produces but one. Texas in 1870, 
furnished the city of New York, forty thousand cattle. 
But four years since only forty-four head of Texas cat- 
tle were sent to the New York market. 

With the economy of the Texans, in keeping all of 
their females to breed from, it will not be many years 
until Texas will be well stocked with cattle. And in 
less than two years she will be connected with us by 
railroads, besides the many ships that are beginning to 
carry cattle by sea to the southern and eastern cities. 

In the slaughter houses that are in operation on the 
seaboard of Texas, thousands of cattle are annually killed, 
and millions more will be packed and shipped to the 
different markets of the world. Eighteen years ago, 
steamboat loads of cattle were shipped from Missouri to 
New Orleans. But now cattle are shipped the other 
way. 

With all these facts staring us in the face, can we of 
Ohio expect to maks it pay in the future, raising beef 



S. S. WOOLLEY. 155 

cattle as a business ? The thinking farmers of Ohio will 
thoroughly investigate these facts, and shape their fu- 
ture business accordingly. 



CULTURE OF POTATOES. 

It has been three hundred years since the potato 
was discovered, but it is now cultivated in all parts of 
the globe, where civilization has extended. 150,000,000 
bushels are consumed annually in the United States as 
an article of food alone, aside from their extensive utili- 
ty in occupying so great a part in commerce and the 
arts. 

There are a great variety of opinions in regard to the 
proper method of their culture. I have tried many ex- 
periments in the cultivation of potatoes, and have set- 
tled on the following system as being the true one : 

If it is convenient, plant your potatoes on new land, 
sod is next best, and should be broken in fall or early 
spring, and subsoiled at least fifteen inches deep. 
Animal or stable manure should not be used on potato 
ground, it has a tendency to deteriorate and disease- 
potatoes thus raised lack the sweet, delicate flavor, that 
those have which are raised on virgin soil. The crop 
may be much benefitted with vegetable manure, ashes, 
lime, salt, etc. I have never succeeded in raising a good 
crop of healthy potatoes on wet land ; a rich calcareous 
clay soil that contains a little sand is best, and may be 
much benefitted by being underdrained. 

There are many failures caused by not having the 
seed properly prepared. There are a variety of opin- 
ions in regard to the kind of seed to plant, whether 
large or small. I am satisfied that large seed not cut in 
more than two pieces is best, but small seed, if properly 



156 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

prepared, is nearly as good. Large potatoes should be 
cut lengthwise, and small ones should have only the 
sprout end cutoff, i. e. , the end furthest from the stem. 
If all the sprouts are allowed to grow, there is not vi- 
tality enough in a small potato to make a vigorous 
growth. There will be many stalks, and a hill of many 
little potatoes, whereas, if the sprout end is cut off, 
there will be a few strong stalks and not more than half 
the number of potatoes will be produced, but they will 
nearly all be large ones. 

Th'ose that are planted early should be cut at least a 
week before they are planted, and the heap turned over 
or spread thin, to dry. An incrustation of the starch 
and juices of the tuber, called healing, takes place, 
which defends the piece against decay. 

It is important to have your seed well matured. If 
your seed potatoes are not ripe, you need not expect 
success. The best time to plant, in this latitude, is 
about the middle of April, but the time may be extend- 
ed to the first of July, but early planting, as a rule, is 
by far the best. The earlier in the season the potato 
gets a start the more likely it is to escape the summer 
drouths, the attacks of the potato bug, and other influ- 
ences unfavorable to its growth and maturity. Early 
planting should be about eight inches deep, so if the 
frost should kill the tops, the eyes will start again. 

If your ground is clear of weeds, I would plant in 
drills about twelve inches apart, and have the rows 
three and a half feet apart. 

As soon as the plant is about four inches high, run 
the cultivator close to and between, but not over them. 
The next time cultivate deep, and thoroughly pulverize 
the soil, and encourage the growth of the tuber rather 
than the stalk, and the third time lay them by with the 
double shovel, not hill them up too much ; cut the 
weeds out after this with a hoe. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 157 

FATTENING HOGS. 

The natural climate of the hog, like the negro, is 
nearer the tropics ; therefore, the best time to fatten this 
animal is before cold weather sets in. It is only on 
the rich lands of the West, where corn is easily and 
cheaply raised, and hogs are raised in large numbers 
with profit. 

A small lot of hogs may be kept on every farm with 
profit as scavengers. Without scavengers, such as the 
hog and buzzard, the atmosphere would become a great 
pestilential effluvium. Corn is most profitably fed to 
hogs when it is a little too hard for roasting ears ; when 
in this stage they will often eat corn, cob, stalk and all. 
Hogs should have a spacious lot to feed in, and never 
be imprisoned in a pen ; however, they will fatten faster 
in a close pen ; those fattened on the ground with 
plenty of room will exercise enough to throw off 
some of the disease-producing matter, and are more 
fit for food. But look at the stupid, gluttonous beast 
imprisoned in his pen, wallowing in his own filth ; at 
every breath he inhales the foul emanations from his 
offal. An animal fattened under such unphysiological 
conditions must be diseased. 

A swill barrel should not be tolerated on any farm ; 
it is always in a state of fermentation ; the strong sour 
smell indicates rottenness ; swarms of maggot flies revel 
in such corruption ; let your hogs have the slop before 
it ferments. The hog being more liable to disease than 
all other animals, and his flesh being the cause of more 
disease in the human family than all other causes, 
should be a consideration worth noticing in producing 
pork. It is officially stated that the loss from hogs that 
die of disease in this country, is annually not less than 
twenty million dollars; in some counties where distil- 



158 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

leries are numerous, five thousand have died of disease 
in one season. 

Some farmers give their fattening hogs salt, which 
will make them gain in weight much faster ; but it pro- 
duces a morbidly increased appetite and occasions con- 
stipation. The result is, the animal fills up with effete 
matters which are accumulated in the cellular tissues in 
the form of fat. The animal grows more bulky, and as 
its commercial value is reckoned by weight, this pro- 
cess of fattening is profitable to those who sell the 
swine, but not to those who eat it ; for the adipose ac- 
cumulation is itself a morbid condition, and the more 
any animal is fattened, the more unwholesome it be- 
comes. 

Farmers who use pork as food in their families, should 
produce it as healthy as the nature of the beast will ad- 
mit of. Hogs should have range in a spacious lot, and 
have the free use of their nose and all the pure water 
they want to drink ; and if it is convenient, let them 
have plenty of water to wallow in. When fattened un- 
der the most favorable circumstances, there is not more 
than one out of ten that is not diseased, if they have 
attained the age of eighteen months. 



A LITTLE ADVICE TO FARM LABORERS. 

Young man, are you a farm laborer ; and do you work 
by the month at a stipulated price ? If so, your calling 
is honorable if you make it so. Many of our wealthy 
farmers were once hired to work on the farm by the 
month. You may ask, how did they arrive at such emi- 
nence in character and wealth. It was by a straightfor- 
ward course of honesty and industry. If your work and 
conduct pleases your employer, and you take an interest 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 159 

in his welfare, he is sure to take an interest in you, and 
the second year you may expect better wages, but the 
better wages is not always the best part of it ; he will 
speak well of you and give you a good recommendation, 
and introduce you to his visitors and others, and you 
will be received and respected as one of the family. Do 
not try to put on more style than becomes a plain 
man. To please the family that employs you, must be 
your study; you must notice and do many little things. 
It is well for you to know that the things of this world 
are made up of littles. 

At all times, while passing over the farm, if you see any 
little thing that needs to be done, do it ; if you see a few 
rails off the fence, lay them up ; if you see any of the 
farm stock where they should not be, return them to 
their place ; never wait to be told to do such things as you 
know should be done. Above all things take good care 
of the team ; never jerk or kick them, if you do, the 
keen observing eye of the owner will know it, when he 
takes hold of them. Horses are much more obedient 
and trusty if treated with kindness and gentleness, and 
of course are more valuable ; they will come when you 
call them, and save you many steps and much vexation. 
But if you treat them badly, they will treat you in like 
manner. See that the harness fits well and is comfortable 
for the horse to work in, and if broken, mend it. Never 
rush the team so as to make time enough to rest an 
hour or so ; such work will not do ; the team will cool off 
and be liable to take cold and will be stiff and slow about 
starting. Let your team rest often and not over two 
minutes at a time. Never feed or water when the horses 
are very warm ; always clean out the feed box before 
feeding, and keep the stable clean, and everything in or- 
der about the barn ; and in winter feed the farm stock 
with economy and order, and do your work as well, and 



l6o LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

keep as steady at it when alone as when your employer 
is with you. It is hard to deceive a farmer in regard to 
the amount of work a hand should do. 

Never go at anything with a great rush, but move as 
though you were alive. Use the farm tools with care 
and break as few as possible. If it is necessary to work 
late in the evening in harvest, to save the grain or hay, do 
it cheerfully without complaining. If your employer is 
away, and you have done what he has told you to do, 
do not await his return to know what to do ; there is 
so much work to do on a farm, that you cant go amiss 
for work. It is also necessary to please the lady of the 
house. To do this, you must never enter the house 
with mud on your boots. If you are guilty of chewing 
tobacco, dispose of your quid before entering the house 
in the evening, and take no more until you leave in the 
morning. There is nothing so disgusting to a lady as 
company that is constantly squirting tobacco juice about 
the fireplace or en the floor. 

Observe cleanliness about the house, and manners at 
the table. Never dip your knife into the apple-butter 
or any other dish that has a spoon in it. Women notice 
these things closely, and if you are guilty of them, they 
will conclude at once that you are of poor stock and 
have been badly raised. Always get up in the morning 
before the family rises, and have the fires made ; keep 
the kitchen well furnished with stove wood. If the 
women are in the habit of milking, always ask for the 
milk bucket of a Sabbath morning, or when it is too 
wet for them to go out. Do not be too officious about 
the house, and do not have too much to say. 

If you will observe the above simple rules you are 
sure of a good home and good pay, until you are able 
to purchase a home of your own. 

You may say, to observe these rules would be to do 










^J 1 ' &/1n^ijL <P, M/^zn^L£ 



S. J. WOOLLEY. l6l 

a good deal of extra work. Well, would it not pay bet- 
ter to do some extra work, as you call it, and have a 
good, steady home, with good wages and be respected ? 
Or would it be better to ignore these rules, and spend 
half of your time in looking for work, and work at low 
wages, and then be turned off at the end of each month 
by every new man that you hire with ? 



LET THE LIGHT AND AIR IN. 

That great element of health and life, the sweet, pure 
and free air that God has given us extending from 
earth one hundred miles in the heavens ; let plenty of 
it in your houses at all times, don't be afraid of it, it 
will not hurt you, but will invigorate your system, pu- 
rify your blood, and give you health. Take the win- 
dow curtains down and let in the gentle rays of sun, it 
will take the dampness out of your house and make it 
more cheerful and less like a prison. 

The sun may fade your nice carpet a little, but bet- 
ter that, than have the health of your daughters ruined. 
A house made dark like a prison with paper or other 
thick window curtains looks to me like ignorance stalk- 
ing abroad. If you will have window curtains, get 
some thin gauze and then have them just so it may be 
seen you have them. 

When I see a cleanly house in the country with open 
windows to receive God's pure light, I conclude at 
once that the love of God, happiness and intelligence 
reign there. 

We, with several other families, are compelled to ab- 
sent ourselves from our own church on account of the 
vitiated air that pervades the building. The house is 
closed all the week, Sabbath school at nine, preaching 
20 



1 62 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

at eleven a. m., all without ventilation. What do you 
think of this, reader? Is it any wonder that the con- 
gregation get drowsy and go to sleep ? The most elo- 
quent preaching will not keep them awake. Is it any 
wonder that people take cold and get consumptive, 
take fevers and contract other diseases in such a place ? 

Dear reader, the country is full of such pest houses 
in the form of churches, school rooms and dwellings. 
I spoke to a brother about having our church ventilated. 
He replied that there was a pane of glass broken out, 
which afforded plenty of air. It seems sinful, if not 
highly criminal, in the officers of a church or any public 
place, to allow a large concourse of people to breathe 
the vitiated air, when pure air can be so easily obtained. 
It is to be deeply regretted that so few understand and 
appreciate its value, that so many sicken and die for 
want of it. 

Visit your district school some afternoon ; you enter 
the room, your face flushed from a brisk walk in the 
pure, cold, bracing air; in five minutes a languor 
begins to creep over you, dimning your faculties, your 
full breath stops, you breathe a little from the top of 
your lungs and try unconsciously not to breathe at all, 
your face burns, and headache begins to creep on, your 
feelings are like those experienced in a tight room 
where charcoal is burning, and for the same reason this 
should convince you of the reason that so many school 
children are coughing, and sometimes have winter 
fevers. 



BE FRIENDLY TO THE SWALLOWS. 

The eave swallows are different in their habits and 
appearance from the forked tail chimney and horn swal- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 163 

low. The eave swallows only build their nests in the 
cliffs of rocks or under the eaves of a nice looking barn 
(they never build about an old rickety barn), they find 
a location near a pond or stream of living water, where 
they can get mud to construct their nests. These birds 
are quite small, but they come in such great numbers 
that the insects they destroy in a season is enormous 
and the benefit they are to the farmer who is lucky 
enough to have their visits, is no very small matter. 

Last season, while the measuring worm was making 
bare the forest and orchard trees, many of my apple 
trees nearest the barn were kept nearly clear of these 
pests, and as soon as the mowing machine was started, 
these birds were seen in large numbers sailing around 
near the machine, catching the young grasshoppers and 
other insects as they would fly up from the grass. 
These birds are also of great value in protecting young 
chickens from hawks, as they will not allow a chicken 
hawk to come near the abode, 

Early this spring, before these swallows made their 
appearance, the chicken hawks took from one to four 
chickens daily, but as soon as these little birds arrived 
here in numbers, they have kept the hawks away and 
we have lost no more chickens. The courage of this 
little bird is an object of admiration, to see them attack 
a ferocious hawk, twenty times their own size, and 
drive them away. I am sorry to say that some of our 
farmers are so ignorant and wicked that they have been 
guilty of tearing the nests of these birds down from 
their barn and murdering their young. 



CHAPTER XII. 



DURING my travels in the South I stopped at Fay- 
etteville. 
The manager of this post was Colonel Rutherford B. 
Hayes, who to day is President of the United States. 
He was Provost Marshal at this place. I never shall or 
can forget the courtly manners of this true American. 
I have not wondered that at the Capital of this great 
nation the kind, yet dignified, gentle, yet courageous 
man I saw at Fayetteville is President and leader. He 
was then the most obliging of men. A clerk he had 
was sour, egotistic, short, conceited, a fop, and gave me 
no assistance. I applied to him for a favor, and saw 
the haughtiness of his mien, the tremendous self-conceit 
which overpowered him. He thundered, and said "No." 
I accosted the gentleman in command. I went to head- 
quarters. I saw Colonel Hayes, and of all the speci- 
mens of kindness it has been my privilege, personally, 
to be interested in and inspect, this touched my whole 
nature with the most gratitude. Besides, I had met a 
man — an occasion which every man remembers with 
pleasure and profit. For, after all, nothing is so grand 
as manhood, pure and simple. We have so many pounds 
of flesh ; so few real men. So many people we meet, 
six feet in height and of full beard, who are jokes — sim- 
ple and pure jokes on Manhood. It is such an occasion 
of real pleasure to be delivered from shams, to be free 
from all the appearances of men, the puns we see on 
our best humanity. Besides all this, nothing is, inher- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 165 

ently, so great, interesting, and so full of meaning as a 
real man. We believe more in the universe — more in 
God. It is a revelation of ourselves. We think at our 
best, and so we think more of ourselves. Thus we get 
regard for men, self-respect, admiration of the universe, 
and often from these come their flower — the love of God. 
Who has seen a grand man, and has not felt what the grand- 
uer of God must be, what the greatness of omnipotent 
goodness is. Such men there are everywhere. They 
live grandly wherever they are. On all the long marches 
they are men ; at the camp-fires they are the same. No 
profession can keep them within its limits. It is a cup 
holding the ocean. The man fills his profession full of 
himself, and overflows it with kindness and goodness, 
that drip down its sides in acts which help men, and 
bless the world in deeds, that, to us who have seen far 
too little of the greatness of goodness, are a perpetual 
astonishment. 

"Life's the true poem, could it be writ; 
Yet who can live at once and utter it? " 

Such men are indeed the true poets, and produce, to 
our minds, the great difference between sham manish- 
ness and genuine manhood. And such men make true 
patriots. 

"Whom did the people trust? 
Not these, the false confederates of State, 
Who laid their country's fortunes desolate ; 
Plucked her fair ensigns down to seal the black man's fate ; 

Not these secured their trust. 

"But they, the generous and the just, 
Who nobly fell, and truly great, 
Loved steadfast still the servant race 
As masters in a menial's place ; 
By their dark brethren strove to stand 
Till owners these of mind and hand, 
And freedom's banners waved o'er an enfranchised land. 

These were the Nation's trust,— 
The patriots brave and just." 



1 66 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

That man was as dear to his men as he seemed digni- 
fied and gentlemanly. And they had reason to admire 
him — yea, they had reason to love him. Here was no 
politician. He never undertook getting office as a busi- 
ness. But always was the office glad to get him. 
Nothing but the splendid value of the ideas with which 
the air was burdened, and the fact that it was a noble, 
serious and necessary thing to influence and control 
public opinion for the right — nothing but the duty which 
came to many such in 1856 and in i860, took him from 
his lucrative practice of law in Cincinnati, and put him 
into the field with statesmen. He went into the affairs 
of state because he believed it would be self-reproach 
to remain out. It was the martial strain of duty which 
made him a power. He spoke of entering politics to a 
friend, much as he did concerning his going to war. 
Concerning the latter, he said : ''This is a just and nec- 
essary war. It demands the whole power of the coun- 
try. I would prefer to go into it, if I knew I was to 
be killed in the course of it, than to live through and 
after it, without taking any part in it." 

He hated slavery with a righteous hatred. He re- 
solved to go. Lincoln sent him a Colonel's commission. 
His friend, Secretary Salmon P. Chase, had suggested it. 
Hayes was a soldier. 

He made of the literary club of which he was a 
member, a company to practice upon. He bought a 
copy of Hardee. He studied it well. He refused the 
Colonelcy, because he thought himself unqualified, and 
in June, 1861, received from Governor Dennison the 
Majorship of the twenty-third Ohio volunteer infantry. 
He was modest, and would not assume to know more 
than he really did know. He wrote in his journal: 
" All matters of discretion, of common judgment, I get 
along with easily; but I was, for an instant, puzzled, 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 167 

when a Captain of the twenty-fourth, of West Point 
education, asked me formally, as I sat in my tent, for 
his orders, he being the officer of the day. I merely 
remarked that I thought of nothing requiring special 
attention ; that if any thing was wanted out of the usual 
routine, I would let him know." When Bull Run came, 
Hayes was all seriousness, and July 25th, Hayes was 
going with the rest to West Virginia, to drive out Gen- 
eral Floyd. In all this joy and grief, Hayes was a par- 
ticipant. When they struck Virginia, the loyal people 
came out to meet them. They rejoiced with them. 
They cried, and laughed, and shouted. The soldiers 
were all well pleased. They had seen new sights. 
Some of them had not been from home. They stood 
on the cars gazing at the country. They all fell back, 
however, before the rebellion was put down, upon the 
cool-headed, earnest, but serious man who enjoyed it 
all, but thought as well about the horrid front of war 
which they did not see. 

All this and much more his soldiers knew, and thus 
they learned to love him. True, they had not seen him 
amid thickest bayonets and booming cannon. But they 
could not forget the valor which lay behind that eye 
while he marched at their head through the dense 
laurel thickets after General Floyd. 

On the first of September, having had only a few 
pleasant encounters with the foe, they were ordered to 
march upon Carnifex Ferry, where Floyd, in gay and 
strong lines, was occupant and lord. The evening of 
the 10th came. Floyd fled. Over Gauley river, fol- 
lowed by the Union soldiery, the retreating rebel went. 
Blinding rains came but the "boys in blue" went on un- 
til the whole of Western Virginia was in the hands of 
the defenders of the dignity of the stars and stripes. 

In this operation, Hayes was ordered to follow one of 



1 68 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

the aids to General Rosecrans, a full thirty minutes after 
the action began. He was to take four companies of the 
twenty-third and make the extreme left of the on- 
marching force. After crossing at great effort a hill and 
having gone through a cornfield, they found them- 
selves within a short distance of the enemies' powers. 
Another aid departed. Hayes was alone. The aid had 
no orders for him. He showed his self-command and 
aggressive earnestness. He was ignorant of the coun- 
try; did not know the localities ; could not appreciate 
the circumstances he could not see. But he did know 
that he was there to push the conquests of his country. 
He seized the most simple direct method, as he has al- 
ways done. He went forward against the foe. Scramb- 
ling against and over the rocks, after beating his way 
through the close laurel thickets of the hillsides, always 
in front of his men, he reached the declivity with a small 
band. Others soon came. A skirmish line was formed. 
He pressed on and arrived in time to see and feel the 
fire of the enemy. Darkness came. Some were wound- 
ed. The command was broken. They struggled back 
over the fields until the morning revealed the fact that 
not only were thirteen killed and seventy wounded, but 
that the enemy had fled in terror from his works. 

All of that circumstance showed the cool headed ar- 
dor he possessed. It was the circumstance which was 
faulty, not himself. Often there is more bravery 
evinced in trying to do than in doing. It is the will and 
the effort that shows the man, not the success. For 
success often is cheap. It is often won by accidents 
and by necessity. But effort and a purpose to do is of 
the man always. 

Then those men were very proud of a man at their 
head who came to war to fight and not to practice law. 
He could have practiced law at home with less effort 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 169 

and greater success. They knew that and believed that 
he came to do big fighting wher they saw him all sad 
and disappointed on a certain occasion. 

They were in camp at New River. Sickness had 
come. Many died. The joy of the battle and pursuit 
had fled in care for the unfortunate. Hayes was 'de- 
tached from his regiment at this time — a time he would 
have loved to have remained in camp with his soldiers, 
for no man did more for the relief of his sick and 
wounded men than did the dignified and courteous com- 
mander. He was ordered to join General Rosecrans at 
his headquarters. He was to become Judge Advocate. 
He obeyed with sadness, and with reluctance did his 
duty. Yet, as in all things, he put his whole soul to the 
task. He systematized everything, made improvements 
in the management and did all things well. But the 
joy came when in six weeks he was allowed to rejoin 
his regiment at New River, whence they removed to 
Camp Ewing and thence to Fayetteville, where I saw 
him and at his hands received many favors. 

I know something of the origin of this letter he sent 
home. It came from a grand, broad and kind soul. 
And he sent it as the utterance of his gentleness. Lit- 
tle did he think that all men were not so kind as the 
loved Colonel of that regiment. 

He says : ' T am satisfied that our army is better fed, 
better clad, and better sheltered than any other army in 
the world. I am now dressed as a private, and I am 
well dressed. I live habitually on soldiers' rations, and 
I live well. It is the poor families at home, not the 
soldiers, who can justly claim sympathy. I accept, of 
course, the regiments which have bad officers. Govern- 
ment is sending enough, if Colonels would only do their 
part. We have sickness which is bad enough, but it is 
due to causes inseparable from our condition." Little 
21 



I70 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

did I wonder that they loved him when I was per- 
mitted to enjoy his overflowing kindness. Little did I 
wonder that they thought him a loyal and true patriot, 
when day after day he made the Fugitive Slave Law 
"of no effect." For he sent no contraband back to his 
chains, the auction block and the driver's lash. He said 
all the time * 'the deadliest enemy the Union has is slav- 
ery ; in fact, its only enemy ; and to strike at slavery is 
to strike at the life of the rebellion." 

Little did I feel the astonishment of his conduct at 
South Mountain, where on the mountain-path he con- 
quered his country's foes in spite of rocks and stones 
and their heavy fire. To one acquainted with him as I 
was it was nothing beyond expectation to see him lose 
two hundred men, make three successive bayonet 
charges, and drive the foe into the woods with a banner 
"riddled," as says Whitelaw Reid, "and the blue field 
almost completely carried away by shell and bullets," 
and a bleeding wound that after the excitement pros- 
trated the gentle but dignified hero behind a log with 
the sole companionship of a southern soldier, also 
wounded, and a canteen of water. 

Cloyd Mountain and Winchester both heard his voice. 
He picked up "a small South Carolina regiment entire" 
in the valley of the Shenandoah, and Opequan, Fisher's 
Hill and Cedar Creek are bound in blood with his 
biography. 

But greater than all these to me is the fact that purity 
places her white hands upon his character and is un- 
stained. Greater than the General, or the Governor, or 
the President, is the man. The call of the head-quarters 
is exceeded by the call of duty ; the duty makes it all 
important to be done. He, of all men, so really honored, 
has filled Wordsworth's idea of duty to its full propor- 
tions : 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 171 

' ' Stern Lawgiver, yet thou didst wear 

The Godhead's most benignant grace, 

Nor know we any thing so far 

As is the smile upon thy face; 

However laugh before thee on their beds. 

And fragrance in thy footing treads: 

Thou didst preserve the stars from wrong; 

And the most ancient heavens, though these are fresh and strong. 

To humbler functions. Awful Power, 

I call thee! I myself commend 

Unto thy guidance from this hour; 

Oh let my weakness have an end ! 

Give unto me, made lowly wise. 

The spirit of self-sacrifice 

The confidence of reason give! 

And in the light of truth, thy bondman, let me live !" 

No stain has yet been found upon his private charac- 
ter. No hush-words are whispered through the land. 
No wise looking on the ground and shaking of the head 
have made the fathers and mothers of the Republic un- 
able to say to their children, as our President rode by : 
"There goes a boy, now grown to be a man, worthy of 
your example. " Said Mary Clemmer, the fine corres- 
pondent of The Independent : 

"Meanwhile, as the days go on, as the fight thick- 
ens, as human pulses and passions rise higher and high- 
er, a man at the other end of the Avenue sits the long 
hours through patiently trying to fulfill the thankless 
task of doing his whole duty to millions of people. He 
committed an unfortunate offense, the other day, when 
he refused to give to a delegation of Washington clerks, 
who waited on him to make the request, leave of ab- 
sence from their desks for three days to join in the 
Grant festivities in Philadelphia. He refused, and their 
wrath was so severe they went forth and drew up a se- 
ries of ' resolutions' against him ; and he yet survives. 
Imagine it ! It was a small matter, perhaps ; but from 
it to the greatest, no President of the United States ever 
received fewer thanks or more abuse for simply doing 
his duty than Rutherford B. Hayes. Were his adminis- 



IJ2 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

tration like Grant's — false but brilliant, gay with gov- 
ernmental pillage, and loud with vulgar display — ap- 
plause would not be lacking. The simple uprightness 
of the Hayes Administration kindles nobody's imagina- 
tion, tempts no man's cupidity, feeds no woman's van- 
ity. Therefore I have heard it disdainfully decried, and 
the glories of the lost empire of Grant loudly lamented. 
The insect of society, the barnacle of office miss the 
malaria of that lower air, in which they thrive, in the 
pure atmosphere of the White House home. The out- 
cry against the Hayes Administration is the* outcry of 
vulgar and selfish minds, the wail of lost power and 
place, just as the call for Grant's return is the hope of 
returning empire. Amid the Babel of new presidential 
names, one occasionally hears something about ' the 
good of the country.' Does it never occur to the 'emi- 
nent' men who are struggling so positively for their 
own advancement, so incidentally for their country, that 
if they really pursue its ' good' they could in no way 
so disinterestedly or so efficaciously serve it as by seek- 
ing to leave the Government for the next four years in 
the hands of the present Executive ? The truth is, it is 
not their country that they seek to serve ; but them- 
selves. If perpetual empire would destroy republican 
liberty, so an itinerant Government, forever on the 
wing, harasses and torments it. It is the source of end- 
less distraction, as it may be, in the end, its final dis- 
integration." 

The fact is we are far too anxious about the commerce 
and navigation, the finances and the diplomacy, the 
question of appointments and votes, and the success of 
our party to care as we ought to care about the purity 
of the greatest seat in the nation. What shall keep 
this government from decay if purity goes? What 
shall be more politic than the obtaining of the highest 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 173 

moral character for the Executive ? If that is here the 
basis of things political, social, and financial, abides, 
and the greatest capital that this nation could put into 
the bank of the future would be the fact that it has been, 
and ever will be, impossible to lead this republic with- 
out the loftiest moral character, the most immaculate 
purity. 

I am not writing in the interest of any party or man, 
but I must say that it is ridiculous to hear the cry for 
"stalwartness" from men who shouted when the Presi- 
dent began to do what they voted for him to do. 
Pledged to give the South the hand of friendship, elect- 
ed to do it, having promised on paper that he would 
do it, is he to be censured for doing it ? 

When the history of the land shall be written, it shall 
be seen that there was once a man who did his whole 
duty in the face of an opposition great and powerful, and 
that at last the opposition learned to love him. 



CHAPTER XIII. 



1 TRANSCRIBE here some impressions of the great 
Centennial Exhibition. 

At that splendid exhibition of the achievements of 
mankind, I found room for my thought, opportunity 
for discussion and food for life. I am aware that 
many volumes have been published on this subject. 
Volumes, with peans of eloquent description, speak 
thoroughly of the wonders of that pageant. But one's 
own eyes see for one's own personality, and therefore 
it is that just here I seek to give my readers some idea 
of that splendid exhibition as it came to me. With les- 
sons which I tried to learn for my race, my country and 
myself, as through these countless avenues of magni- 
ficent beauty they came to a single citizen of the re- 
public. 

Specialists must write the story and significance of the 
several departments. Space limits the treatment I 
would love to give to the details which were of such in- 
terest to me. The crowding glories must wait for a 
larger volume than this. But the feature peculiarly at- 
tractive to his readers will receive the present author's 
attention. 

First of all, no man could find himself in Philadelphia 
and be a self-conscious American citizen without the 
echoes of one hundred years ago sounding in his ears. 
And the music of the present was heavy with the gath- 
ered melody of the past. At the sight of Independence 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 175 

Hall I was taken back into the midst of the ideas of 
1776, and felt what I could of the air which made an 
atmosphere of power to liberty and bathed young free- 
dom as a morning cloud while it held this new-born 
sentiment in its warm embrace. The time was great in 
interest and significance the world over. 

The splendor of the light in which, as a reality, Anson 
had lately brought the Pacific, was augmented with the 
closing and crowning act of Cook's notable life. A new 
world of business, beauty and historical significance, had 
been opened up by the breaking up of the Spanish mo- 
noply over the North and South American coast trade. 
England was beginning to add strength to it all by the 
occupanc}' of these and the refitting of these points 
for her own great trade. England and France were about 
to enter the era of their relations which was so differ- 
ent from the one which preceded it, and which was 
of such meaning to the civilized world. The DuBarrys, 
Maupeons, and their like had all been sent from Ver- 
sailes by Louis XIV. and his beautiful wife. George III. 
had learned many lessons in the history of liberty, and 
when his mind opened, the soul of England began to 
grow more capacious and extensive ; but after he had 
learned much from Junius and Wilkes, he had just be- 
gan to learn for himself. All England gave the world, from 
the sword of Washington, the idea that there should be 
no levies on any land when that land was not blessed in 
every particular of liberty of which it was capable. 
Frederick II, of Germany was old. His land was ready 
for his benediction, and already begun to spread its 
wings for a flight which is so sweeping and lofty as to 
be the astonishment and wonder of the civilized world. 
Clive was protecting from a fierce opposition, in the 
house of Lords, a child which has grown to contain 
double the population of the Europe of that day. The 



I76 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

young Princess of Anhalt Zerbst had touched Russia, 
and afterwards Napoleon was to seek the hearts of this 
land in vain. Liberty was in the air. Freedom hov- 
ered beneath and over the world. 

Thought, which is the guardian of Freedom, Science 
and Truth, which are the friends of Liberty, were mak- 
ing the air capable of nourishing a great revolution. 
Linaeus and BufTon had opened greater secrets than 
were dreamed. Great worlds swept before the human 
ken, beautiful and vast. Hutton, Priestley, Cavendish, 
Lavosier, were to come with the approaching birth of 
the idea that every man has a right to himself. 

America felt the burden and throes of birth. It came. 
The Declaration of Independence was signed. The lion 
of England roared. But above the tumult swept the 
eagle bearing our destinies into the heart of the sun. 

The announcement which begun: "When in the 
course of human events," was the greatest piece of 
moral courage which had ever been filled so full of pro- 
found ideas. Thirteen weak and broken colonies against 
the mistress of the seas, the queen of the land — Eng- 
land. No soldiers at all, against the English army which 
so overflowed England that here on American soil, 
thousands of them stood in virtual possession of the 
cities. 

But the fight developed a still richer grandeur. All 
the weary years it increased in depth and tone. Through 
all the Valley Forges, it walked on and ever on to hero- 
ism sublime. And at last it came victorious, bearing 
beauty on its brows that it knew not of, and to-day — I 
thought as I stood there in the tumult of that glory of 
a hundred years — it bears the triumphant fruit, sweet, 
golden, and of a hundred years of liberty. 

So I thought of the past as we walked into the en- 
closure on a day when the hundreds of thousands came. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 177 

I enter what is called the Main Building. Eighteen 
hundred and eighty feet long, four hundred and sixty- 
four feet wide, forty-eight feet to the cornice, seventy- 
feet to the roof tree ; this is the enclosure filled with 
beauty and magnificence. Here in the centre is a dome 
ninety-six feet above me, leaning on beautiful and grace- 
ful posts and trusses of iron, giving a great square at the 
base of one hundred and twenty feet. There is a signifi- 
cance in it all. It is the exact elevation of the old 
Capital rotunda. Is there not a hint there, that we 
will never lose sight of the industries and operations of 
our countrymen — ten thousand as they are in number — 
but in the same future they shall be under the same 
dome ? Let them have equal rights. Let the old 
measurements be kept. But let the building which 
shall contain them grow until all the operations of the 
continent shall be held within the same great enclosure 
of justice, liberty and truth. Here is a transept, which, 
by intersection with the nave, forms the pavillion, which 
is four hundred and sixteen feet long. On each side is 
one of the same length, one hundred feet wide. The 
aisles are forty-eight feet each. This great central nave 
and transept is supported by iron columns forty-five feet 
in height while the roof rises to seventy feet. Six hun- 
dred and seventy-two columns stand here, twenty-two 
feet apart, and standing upon solid stone. They are 
made of rolled iron, are bolted together in segments, 
and can thus be taken apart when it becomes advisable. 
Here we then travel by the lands of the earth, here we 
walk through the achievements of men, through the 
promenades and the aisles running athwart, of ten and 
fifteen feet in width. There are small balconies or gal- 
leries at the sides to which one may retire to study the 
scene. And many a weary student has taken his note 
book out in one of those places and looked and wrote, 
22 



I78 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

far above the dust, of the beauty of the scene, of the 
humorous people he saw, of the lovely days there 
given to getting information, of hours in that great col- 
lege of facts and of the impressions which, without be- 
ing written, never would pass away from him. Here a 
man surveys the world. He sees the globe in its busi- 
ness enterprise and effort. There are thirty-six hun- 
dred tons of iron in those trusses, with $1,420,000 in- 
vested for our pleasure. With four miles of water and 
drainage pipes underlying the twenty-one acres of floor 
in this building, it is our great pleasure to see stored 
with neatness, taste, and expenditure, the trophies of 
nineteenth century civilization. 

Now we walk into the Machinery Hall. Here the 
music of mechanism is produced. Noise, noise, noise, 
but what infinite quiet is it in comparison with what 
would be if no subtle thought nor mighty idea had em- 
bodied itself in iron, steel and brass, if no great concep- 
tion rode triumphant on the steam belts and bars, and 
sent its nervous powers through the thousand life-like 
activities of that huge convocation. Here is the con- 
vention of the forces, here is the meeting place of the 
processes, here is majestic strength, and here in delicate 
miniature act the powers of the world. Here we learn 
the whole history of our pens, pins and needles, here we 
read from the operation itself the biography of a ship 
held with steel and clothed with iron, or a train of cars 
which bears the thousands across a continent. Fourteen 
acres are covered by this building. Fourteen hundred 
and two by three hundred and sixty feet is its size. It 
seems a huge covering for that mighty thing which with 
its lungs of flame and sinews of steel throb the life of 
motion through and through that whole grand aggrega- 
tion of power. As we walk along without, we hear that 
the main cornice is forty feet in height upon the out- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 179 

side. As we walk within, it is ascertained that the in- 
terior height is seventy feet in the main aisle, and forty 
feet with one central and two side aisles. The avenues 
are each ninety feet in width, and the aisles sixty, with 
a space of fifteen feet in one and of ten in the other for 
good free walking such as every tired man wants to do. 
The hydraulic avenue is a sprout from the hall covering 
a space of one acre. 

To an agriculturist the Centennial was a rich ground 
and fruitful. We enter into our own place. The Ag- 
ricultural Building is certainly a home — gorgeous and 
luxuriant — for the farmer. I was glad to observe its 
grandeur. It signified that the profession of citizenship 
and that of agriculture in this country were wonderfully 
identical. Ten and a quarter, it covered. Five hun. 
dred and forty by eight hundred and twenty feet was 
its size. All the convenience, all the environment, all 
the advantages were given to those who exhibited what 
lies beneath our progress — the agriculture of our clos- 
ing century. 

Never did I feel that the hymn of Whittier was so 
appropriate, as when, full of the recollections of 
Machinery Hall and the Main Building, I saw nature 
under the touch of man glow with glory for this great 
celebration. 

From the Philadelphia Times. 
CENTENNIAL HYMN. 

BY JOHN G. WHITTIER. 

. Our father's God ! from out whose hand 
The centuries fall like grains of sand, 
We meet to-day, united, free, 
And loyal to our land and Thee, 
To thank Thee for the era done, 
And trust Thee for the opening one. 

Here where of old, by Thy design, 
The fathers spake that word of Thine 



l80 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Whose echo is the glad refrain 
Of rending bolt and falling chain. 
To grace our festal time from all 
The zones of earth our guests we call. 

Be with us while the New World greets 
The Old World, thronging all its streets, 
Unveiling all the triumphs won 
By art or toil beneath the sun ; 
And unto common good ordain 
This rivalship of hand and brain. 

Thou who hast here in concord furled 
The war flags of a gathered world, 
Beneath our western skies fulfil 
The Orient's mission of good will, 
And, freighted with Love's golden fleece, 

Send back the Argonauts of peace. 
For art and labor met in truce, 
For beauty made the bride of use. 
We thank Tbee, while withal we crave 
The austere virtues strong to save. 
The honor proof to place or gold, 
The manhood never bought or sold ! 

! make Thou us, through centuries long, 
In peace secure in justice strong; 
Around our gift of freedom draw 
The safeguards of thy righteous law, 
Aad, cast in some diviner mould, 
Let the new cycle shame the old I 

Agriculture is to Horticulture ''what the man is to 
the woman," The Horticultural Hall was a blaze of 
floral glory. Here on a bluff, overlooking the beauti- 
ful river, bloomed the garden of the closing cycle. 
Beautiful nature covered again and dotted with her own 
robes was the park around. Great heavy building that 
it was, it was made exquisite without and within by 
taste. The curved glass sides showed the life within 
in the sparkling sun. The verandas and porticos 
filled with excellent and luxuriant foliage make the 
scene a transported happy place. You enter by a flight 
of dark marble stairs. A vestibule all gay with bright 
tiles opens. Forcing houses are at either side, one hun- 
dred by thirty feet. The great conservatory is two hun- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 151 

dred and thirty by eighty feet, and surrounded with 
galleries, decorated with faultless taste, but with great- 
est luxuriance. It seems the beauties of nature fastened 
for a time willingly and captive to the worshipping gen- 
ius of man. 

We step into the Memorial Building. When the 
word was sent out officially, that " all works of art must 
be of a high order of merit," it was supposed that the 
great walls which had been so industriously prepared 
would be half vacant and bare. But the work went on. 
Of the finest stone, the building seemed to imply eter- 
nal existence. Massachusetts and Virginia granite held 
together, and holding together the iron of Pennsylvania 
— piled up with a cost of a million and one half of dol- 
lars, and decorated with all that architecture could 
dream, crowded with the work of genius from every 
clime and coast — this is Memorial Hall. 

Crowded — yes, and another building by its side. For 
when Memorial Hall was being built, it was the thought 
to get room. Three hundred and sixty-five by two 
hundred and ten feet, is its size. It is made to afford 
eighty-nine thousand square feet of wall-surface for 
pictures. " Enough — for more," said everybody ; "for 
the art which shall come." But genius crowded the 
century with Art. It came. Another building rose to 
receive it. Three hundred and forty-nine by one hund- 
red and eighty-six feet was its size, and it was full. Be- 
fore the ground had been touched, one-half the space 
was engaged- by England, France, Germany, Austria, 
Belgium and Italy, and the demands at home enlarged 
it again with such wings that it had the form of a Greek 
Cross. I shall not detain my reader with any elaborate 
accounts of the methods whereby comfort and pleasure 
was secured to every body. I will not worry my reader 
with long descriptions of the Judges' Pavilion, the beau- 



1 82 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

tiful fountain erected by the Catholic Total Abstinence 
Union, which delighted every true temperance man, 
and seemed a suggestive fact, indeed, with which to 
begin a new century. I cannot dwell with that recep- 
tacle of woman's doings — the Womens' Pavilion, — 
which, at an expense of thirty 'five thousand dollars, 
was meant to embody the progress of woman's work in 
one hundred years. We could linger there forever, and 
know magnificently little about woman's work and in- 
fluence. Nobody heard a sob of Mother's heart. No 
one saw a falling tear. No one could feel the dwelling 
love which sweeps up to God, and bears a race of men 
near to heaven. Woman's Pavilion, it was named ; but 
the pavilion she works in is the eternity of God. Heaven 
itself is her harvest home. We could remain with good 
results with the United States Government Building, 
with the buildings of the several States, with the Japa- 
nese Building, Swedish School House, Spanish Building, 
British and German Buildings. They all were gems of 
architecture, and of each other fine lessons were to be 
learned. 

But I pass to the displays within and without those 
buildings, which will be of great interest to my reader. 
Let us go, first, to the general exhibit of the nations, 
that we may look a glance, if no more, into each of 
them. 

To begin with England, what could be more fitting 
than that the mother of this land, who tried so hard to 
keep her daughter from running away and marrying 
liberty, should be represented here in gorgeous colors. 

What is the quality of these goods? The finest. 
What is their characteristic ? Art. It looks as though 
Ruskin's delicate, but purified ideas had dictated the 
exhibition. All the fineness of his art, and that of 
Turner, whom he idolizes, is here. Take, for example, 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 183 

the glass and silver exhibit. No great, heavy speci- 
mens unadorn the whole show. Everything is fine, 
delicate, and is simply heavy enough to bear all the 
ideas which had to do with its conception and manufac- 
ture. All of the glory of the old forms of art are there. 
All of the delicacy of the new appear also. Angles 
have given place to Turner. 

And then art has got to be so human. It comes to 
adorn our fire'sides, and make home beautiful. All the 
common things are made lovely. The spirit of beauty 
has been married to the spirit of use, and the twain are 
one. The brush and the chisel are not all of art's tools. 
Here are clocks that speak of the finest ideals. Furni- 
ture stands before us that seems a canvas for delicate 
art instincts and strong power of execution. Carving of 
all sorts, made historic by recording famous scenes, and 
adding luxuriance to comfort and elegance to necessity. 

Woman's needlework was here. The Royal School 
of Art Needlework had furnished it. A Terra Cotta 
Temple, exhibited by Doulton, was very attractive, and 
the cutlery and silks showed how beauty had been made 
the bride of use. 

I am trying now to give some general ideas which 
struck me as I touched nation after nation in my walk 
through that main building. 

As England showed it under the influence of such as 
Ruskin, France developed to my eye an abounding 
though somewhat conventional elegance. Everything 
France has on hand is of the first quality. The Com- 
mission have evidently done their best to make this a 
representative exhibit. Here is cutlery of all curious 
patterns. Curious as are some of the Paris fashions, 
which every American citizen is made acquainted with, 
whether he will or no, are the freaks of genius as em- 
bodied in these specimens of finer hardware. 



184 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

More thorough is the art than in England. Deeper 
fidelity to nature is seen in the English collection, but 
deeper fidelity to fancy is shown in the French collec- 
tion. 

In matters literary, here is a fine show. The govern- 
ment has loaned everything to the project. Besides, 
the publishers of the great French works have formed the 
finest trade specimens of the finest thinking and placed 
them before us. Great maps, of microscopical accuracy, 
fine engravings, of the greatest horizon of view, and yet 
of the utmost refinement of detail ; architectural illus- 
trations, which were the glory of the greatest of the 
French builders — all these make it a place whereto 
scholars resort. 

Science, especially in the department in which the 
French excel, was well exhibited. In Botany, the 
most accurately copied small pictures, and large fine- 
ly painted designs were excellent indeed. It in- 
creased the love of many a man for the flower to see 
there in such open clearness the genuine character and 
texture of these brilliant citizens of the fields and gar- 
dens. All this display seemed to me sufficient to prove 
to the nations there congregated that France as a Re- 
public had much to rely upon as a self-sustaining nation. 
And that is the basis of republicanism. A nation must 
be in reality stronger to remain a republic than to re- 
main a monarchy. We talk of ' 'a strong government. " 
The strong government is that government which most 
nearly sustains itself. I mean that it must furnish its 
own ideal and idea, power and will. And that depends 
upon the many-sideness or rather upon the full develop- 
ment of a people. 

Another thing, however, is that its resources must 
be of great variety. Its strength comes from the unity 
of these all. And, for these facts, I believe in the fu- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 185 

ture of the French Republic. They are there. Variety 
of resource and variety of adaption, all united into real 
strength and operative force by the working intellect of 
republican France. 

All of the Egyptian exhibit suggested age — hoary an" 
tiquity. It could hardly be helped that the informed 
looker on should have thought of Lethos and Manetho, 
of Joseph, the pyramids, the shepherd kings, the musty 
history and dreamy legend of that ancient land. 

Things were sparkling and new, but they had old 
ideas in them and were ancient. Here was a hint of 
it, — the silver writing desk appurtenances. Here is an 
old God, all written over with history, all inscribed with 
antique fable, solemn, demure, fierce or sorrowful, with 
his head bowed. Here is an image taken from the deep 
old past and preserved for the glowing future It is a 
perpetual dream, the poem of old age. 

We step up to the great mantel and the environment 
of ornaments which are marked "Russia." They are 
Malachite, beautiful indeed, but looking at their best in 
a broad great mirror and over an exquisite mantel and 
grate. But this is the beginning of an excellent ex- 
hibit. 

What a pile of gold, copper, iron, silver and other ores, 
is that? It is the hint of that which Russia has, piled 
away in her mountain breasts and the rich resources 
which are beneath her national life. Besides here is the 
evidence that can make it all powerful. It is the ex- 
hibit of Russia's industry and enterprise. Fine draw- 
ings are those and fine furniture is that. The show in 
furs is beautiful beyond description. They are rich be- 
yond any in the whole exposition and they attract all 
comers. Now and then a lady covered with wealth and 
adorned with diamonds of amazing brightness walks up, 
and with the agent makes arrangements for a supply 
23 



1 86 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

which shall excite the jealousy of all her neighborhood. 
Let them attend to that now, while we look at furniture 
made of stag horns. Silks, that woo the sunbeams as 
they blush and then fall through upon it relieving it of a 
glorious lustre ; soap that looks too clean and finely de- 
signed to use on our hand even for purposes of cleanli- 
ness. Specimens of anatomical work of the finest sort, 
and embroidered workmanship of great value. Majolica 
Terra Cotta, and a hundred other specimens which show 
that in Russia is the power of a lofty civilization. 

Now as I write, I can not help the thought, which 
comes from the intelligence of which we are now pos- 
sessed concerning Russia, and my observation at the ex- 
position, that there is a deep life and a high destiny for 
that people. But the state of things is now terrible. 

No nation, whose success for the future is not to be 
lost by any unexceptionable devotion to the glory of the 
past, or the splendor of the present, can afford to neglect 
the lesson of Russia. Her facts are the possibilities of 
every land beneath the stars. Her condition and pros- 
pect are granted, in fee simple, to any and every other 
nation, which, by the operation of the same laws, shall 
find this special story of cause and effect. 

Right and liberty are so seemingly concrete to our 
speech, that they are really abstract to much of our 
thinking. The forces which take lands, seas, rivers and 
mountains, and build, therefrom and therewith, nations, 
are so loosely spoken of and so familiarly mentioned 
that it is doubtful if we understand them at all. The 
crises of history, catastrophes of politics, and those up- 
heavals of the old and new forces by the elemental pow- 
ers working toward an end, were, at least, to remind 
mankind, who mouth these things, that they are basic 
facts, fundamental realities, in whose fists lie the en- 
chantments, in whose operations lie the destinies which 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 187 

they do surely organize and control. Such ideas float 
on the tide of the latest word from Russia. And other 
symptoms of this diseased man will appear and prove 
that even a long national illness may develop new phases 
of debility every day, and more — that when the body is 
in condition to invite sickness, there seems to be so log- 
ical a relation between all forms of disease, that, thick 
and fast, they come and hunt down the lingering life. I 
seek to understand the facts which come into being rath- 
er than to be their dreary chronicle. And looking as I 
have, to Russia, in the light and by means of such views 
of popular rights and righteousness as have been sug- 
gested in this volume, it has, as it seems, this duty to 
perform : to point out, at least, some casual facts of her 
present condition ; to mention, at least, some reasons 
for that condition of affairs which not only Russia, but 
the friends of Russia and popular rights, bewail, and to 
thus give full value to those historical forces which in 
Russia, as elsewhere, have not lost their power by ap- 
pearing under new guises, and have never wrought for 
liberty and integrity by the mere proclamation thereof. 
Serfdom in Russia has and always will have to do with 
the problem. It is at least one quantity in the equation. 
Of how great power and significance, we may readily 
see. It was not, in the first place, of ancient life. Its 
introduction into Russia was quite recent. England 
must not boast. Praedal servitude had just become ex- 
tinct within her own borders when serfdom began in 
Russia. Villenage had its last plea in English courts in 
1618, and Boris Godunoff gave forth the first edict in 
1592, binding the peasantry to the soil. Russian au- 
thorities make our modern American historian wild with 
ire, when they do not condemn it as an act of tyranny, 
but rather do speak of it as an act necessary toward the 
civilization of Russia. They speak to-day of Boris Go- 



155 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

dunoff with reverential love. His name stands for the 
conducting of external affairs with a quiet but potent 
success. He made foreign policy inure to the benefit of 
his country. But his glory, to the writers to whom we 
now refer, is, that he administered with much greater 
success the internal affairs of government. He assisted 
in the purification of morals, the improvement of soci- 
ety, ideas, ideals and methods, the enlargement of the 
national trade and of international commerce. The 
greatest thing he accomplished, to the end of improving 
society, was to take the peasants, who, at stated inter- 
vals, were accustomed to migrate from one landed pro- 
prietor to another, thus losing much and gaining nothing 
— and to break this nomadic, vagrant life, by forbidding, 
in 1592, the migration of peasants, cancelling their rights 
to move from one estate to another, and commanding 
them to stay forever where the edict found them. The 
Czar, the landed proprietors, and the monasteries were 
each allotted their portion. 

Boris recalled this restriction, in part, in 1601, and 
the latter action, in 1606, was revoked by a decree of 
Duma. Nevertheless, history is right in holding that 
serfdom proper began with Peter the Great. He placed 
such laws in force, and was the authoritative agent of 
such exactions, as, by his capitation tax, " to make each 
landed proprietor chargeable for the number of peasants 
actually residing on his estate at the time of completing 
the census." Of course, they would not let the peas- 
ants go after they had paid tax on them. And ever 
thereafter, unto the date of emancipation, 1861, the 
land of Russia was appraised by the number of its serfs. 
Landed property decreased in value, and since 1861 a 
rapid and unexampled rise has occurred, proving, in ad- 
dition to the great teaching from Russia, that slavery 
everywhere is freighted with loss to the tyrant. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 189 

Englishmen would call Russian peasants villein soca- 
gers, or socagers regardant. They could not be sold 
apart from the land they lived upon, and were quite de- 
finable from another class corresponding with the villeins 
in gross. These were prisoners of war, insolvent debt- 
ors, or their children, and were called Kholopy, upon 
whom, however, no capital punishment could, by their 
lord's right, be inflicted. 

The Emancipation of 1861 accomplished for them the 
following : personal liberty was conferred on the serfs, 
who were declared to hold the land by copyhold, pay- 
ing a fixed rate of rent in labor or money. Arbitrators 
were appointed to measure the land and settle disputes 
between the proprietors and the liberated serfs; enfran- 
chisement of the copyholds was made obligatory on the 
landlords on payment of the capitalized value of the 
rent, the government advancing four-fifths of the sum 
in bonds bearing interest at three per cent., the same to 
be paid in installments spread over 49 years, making the 
entire operation of emancipation complete in 1910. 

But these twenty years which have intervened are 
years of the deepest teaching and of great and far- 
reaching consequences. The national energies have 
been thoroughly aroused from their death-like sleep. 
For not only do the rights of men never die, but only 
sleep, but the possibilities of men also have never 
reached death, though they may have passed another 
torpor. Before, Russia was organized calm ; now Rus- 
sia is organized agitation, and looks towards disorganized 
anarchy. Russia under Nicholas was splendid. He 
controlled liberalism, and made it conservative ; he was 
arbiter of Europe ; he was master of Austria and Prus- 
sia, and was surprised at the unlooked-for condition 
which shattered his august power. But it was all unreal. 
The interior conditions were unnatural, and no foreign 



I9O LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

policy could make Russia strong. Says M. Kosheleff, 
in his admirable book, published in 1875, in Berlin — 
because of the rigor of the Russian censors — "Our 
Situation ;" 

" From 1825 to 1855 we existed under an oppressive 
and monotonous system of representation. There was 
no scope for social activity. Self-government might not 
even be alluded to ; and the use of the word t zemstvo > 
stamped a man as unworthy of confidence and design- 
ing — yes, even rendered himself liable to danger and 
persecution. The assemblies of the nobles were of no 
importance ; scarcely any business was transacted by 
them, and scandals were of frequent occurrence. The 
elections to important offices degenerated into the in- 
trigues of interested persons. In the town self-govern- 
ment was a parody of the same, for it was in the hands 
of the most ignorant of the inhabitants, and meant ab- 
ject subservience to the provincial governors. The tri- 
bunals inspired no confidence, and those among the 
judges who were honest and impartial, were, thanks to 
the secrecy of the proceedings, suspected of unfairness 
and neglect, if not of corruption. Trade was at a stand- 
still, and credit had no existence. Serfdom weighed 
heavily on millions of human beings. Literature was 
fertile in poetry, drama, novels, &c, which might be 
quite immoral, provided social subjects and the conduct 
of the government were not touched upon. A Russian 
dare not, either in the newspapers or in books, speak of 
political questions or the evils of the times. In a word, 
below was the torpor of death, whilst in the upper strata 
of society despotism flourished free from all restraint. 
The life of a Russian as a man was confined to the se- 
cret recesses of his soul. There alone he felt that he 
was a being made in the image of God — there alone 
could he be conscious of an independent existence, of 



S. J. WOOLLEY. I9I 

a right to freedom of thought, sentiment, and will. But 
what brought despotism to its senses, aroused a people 
robbed of its civil rights, and benefited the country gen- 
erally, was the desolation of the Crimea." 

Very true ! for the Crimean war aroused her to a sort 
of national self-consciousness, in which all healthful in- 
dignation, personal penitence, devotion to duty, hope 
for the future, and duty in the present, were born. Dis- 
astrous as was the Crimean war to Russia in its imme- 
diate consequences, it was the beginning to her of this 
era of self-consciousness — a self-consciousness so radiant 
and powerful as to become a means of knowledge to 
perceive the relations of her national self to all other 
selves and circumstances. Russia found herself inferior 
to the neighbors. Her king put his pen, burning with 
revolution, into the dark chaotic mass, and wrote the 
death of serfdom on the white conscience of his time. 
It was done. The tyrannous hand of that powerful and 
interested faction who are trying to impede its consum- 
mation is the witness to the progress made by that single 
stroke of a pen which averted a revolution of blood and 
death. The Crimea shook her into life, gave her op- 
portunity to adopt the principle of universal liability to 
military service ; and cleared the way for the advance of 
all classes within her lines. 

Now, the problem is clear. Actual Russia is seeking 
to reach ideal Russia, with the weight of so many years 
of wrong, loss and slavery. It is an awful burden to 
bear. The civil officials, even, are hampering the pro- 
gress of this already adopted policy. And 19 10 is a 
date hated by the aristocracy. Free institutions are de- 
spised by the officials. "Trial by peers" to every man, 
is supposed, by them, to be their foe, as it is to all op- 
pression and oppressors. But progress through blood 
seems sure. The imperial budgets in 1875 began to be 



I92 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

published for the information of the people, which seems 
a great concession to popular rights, and is indeed a 
great concession to national power by means of national 
self-confidence. Two things for four years have been 
lamentable : the insufficiency of the police force, spring- 
ing from a too lax conception of the relations of liberty 
and law, and the absenteeism of nobles and landed pro- 
prietors. But the deepest fact — since all great facts of 
politics are primarily ideas — is, that such a sense of de- 
spair pervades the best classes, and such a disintegrating 
social, political and religious faith prevails among the 
most educated men of Russia. Is government a failure 
in general ? Is mankind a failure ? Is there no faithful 
thing ? Has the ideal sort of government been found 
vicious ? Or are there reasons for the failure of only a 
partial Republicanism in Russia or elsewhere? What 
are the facts ?. 

The Czar has not for years been able to control his 
functionaries. He makes free, and they drag back to 
the fetters. He progresses faster than his government. 
He does not lead the thought of Russia. Mr. Kosheleff 
describes the feelings of Russians : 

"A man shut up in prison, when he has spent some 
years there, becomes in a measure habituated to the 
mode of life. He gets through his time somehow. 
His emotions become by degrees less sensitive, his 
thoughts confined ; he becomes callous, and ceases to 
be conscious of the utter misery of his situation. But it 
is intolerable to a man who has acquired his freedom 
and tasted its sweets if he is dragged back to prison 
again from time to time ; more especially if these tem- 
porary respites are dependent on the caprice of his jail- 
ers, and the concession of more or less indulgence is 
determined by the same tyrants. The mind of such a 
miserable being must inevitably lose its equilibrium. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. I93 

His ideas become confused, and if he do not resolve on 
some mad act, despair seizes him. He takes no further 
interest in anything ; his strength wanes ; he is annihila- 
ted by this intolerable state of existence. 

The interpretation of law is in the hands of the offi- 
cers. Democracy must take more steps to hold her own. 
Republicanism must seize the future to make sure of 
the past. 

Since Peter the Great suppressed the Duma, or 
National Council, there has been no opportunity for the 
discussion of public affairs. The people could not reach 
the ears of the ruler. Divided into classes by Peter's 
hasty reforms, a vast gulf opened between the nobles, 
superficial and glossy, and the peasants, ignorant and 
wronged. Between them there was, and, since called 
to rule together there yet is, no bond of union. St. 
Petersburg hears no heart-throbs without her walls. Des- 
potism divides; it has never made "the married calm of 
States." 

In spite, however, of it all, the Russian peasant will 
hear, think and feel for the country. If he cannot speak 
by personal voice and representation, he will do it by 
explosions, and back his leaden word with a breath of 
flame. There is no restricted conversation in the zemstvo. 
The government will garble his speeches. His influence 
is abated. But he will crowd courts of justice, and he 
will keep conscience and otherwise prove, that, having 
the possibilities of self-government within him, it is na- 
tional disaster to compel him to hold these possibilities 
in check, and it would be national safety to concede to 
them the privileges of activity and life. Repression 
means explosion, education and use mean life, growth, 
and the fair fruitage of liberty. The only way to keep a 
man from being a burden to himself is to give him self- 
government. It is the cure of pessimism. The only 
24 



194 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

way to keep him from being dangerous to others is by- 
means of self-government, which, by making him safe 
to himself, makes him safe to others. This is the cure 
of revolutionism. The only way to get out of him all 
there is in him is by means of self-government, which, 
by making him valuable to himself, makes him valuable 
to others. This is the cure for Nihilism, Communism, 
and this will make citizenship reciprocal, through citi- 
zens, to itself, and prevent disintegration. But these 
are the ideas of Republicanism and Democracy, yet they 
prove that no Democracy is safe which is not complete ; 
no Republicanism is safe which oppresses any right of 
any man anywhere. For four years the complete ideas 
of Republicanism have seemed to us the only logical 
safety for Russia. The state of affairs proves the means 
of Republicanism to be vital. What are they ? Public 
because private intelligence. " Ye shall knozv the truth, 
and the truth shall make you free" — this is the first utter- 
ance of pure Republicanism. Public because private con- 
science. "The kingdom of God is within you" — this is 
the corresponding utterance of the same principles. In 
these and in their exercise lies the final regeneration of 
Russia. 

But I believe, from the close observation I gave to 
Russian products at that great Exposition, that Russia 
is capable of self-government, and that Republicanism 
is the only method for her people. 

In this same light — the light of the past and present, 
I tried to study Sweden, Japan, China, and the other 
countries represented. My own country had most to 
teach, and I listened to her lessons there until the poet's 
words seemed her own soliloquy : 

" Look up, look forth, and on! 

There's light in the dawning sky; 

The clouds are parting— the night is gone; 

Prepare for the work of the day! 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 195 

Fallow thy pastures lie. 

And far thy shepherds stray, 

And the fields of thy vast domain 

Are waiting for purer seed 

Of knowledge, desire and deed, 

For keener sunshine and mellow rain! 

But keep thy garments pure; 
Pluck them back, with the old disdain, 
From touch of the hands that stain! 

So shall thy strength endure. 
Transmute into good the gold of gain, 
Compel to beauty thy ruder powers, 
Till the bounty of coming hours, 
Shall plant on thy fields apart, 
With the oak of Toil, the rose of Art. 
Be watchful and keep us so! 
Be strong and fear no foe, 
Be just, and the world shall know! 
With the same love, love us, as we give; 

And the days shall never come, 

That finds us weak or dumb 

To join and smile and cry 

In the great task, for thee to die, 
And the greater task, for thee to live." 

— A soliloquy which lingered with me, until at Mt. 
Vernon, I felt that I stood on holy ground near the 
tomb of Washington, where other words, inspired by 
the same spirit, came to my recollection : 

Minds strong by fits, irregularly great, 

Tbat flash and darken like revolving light, 
Catch more the vulgar eye, unschooled to wait 

On the long curve of patient days and night ; 
Bounding a whole life to the circle fair, 

Of orbed fulfilment; and this balanced soul, 
So simple in its grandeur, coldly bare 

Of draperies theatric, standing there ; 
In perfect symmetry of self control, 

Seem not so great at first, but greater grows, 
Still as we look, and by experience learn 

How grand this quiet is, how nobly stern 
The discipline that wrought through life-long throes 

That energetic passion of repose. 
The longer on the earth we live, 

And weigh the various qualities of men, 
Seeing how most are fugitive, 

Of fitful gifts, at best, of now and then, 
Wind-wavered corpse-lights, daughters of the fen, 

The more we feel the high stern-featured beauty 
Of plain devotedness to duty, 

Stand fast and still, nor paid with mortal praise, 



I96 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS. 

But finding amplest recompense 
For life's ungarlanded expense ; 

In work done squarely and unwasted days, 
For this we honor him, that he should know 

How sweet the service and how free 
Of her, God's eldest daughter here below, 

And choose in meanest raiment which was she. 
Placid completeness, life without a flaw 

From faith or higher aims, truth's breathless wall, 
Surely, if any fame can bear the touch, 

He will say "Here," at the trumpet's call, 
The unexpressive man whose life expressed so much. 



CHAPTER XIV 



AMONG the pleasant memories I preserve, of the 
happy and not uneventful past, that stand out like 
beds of flowers, environed with beautiful green, are my 
days and nights in the great metropolis, my residence 
near and within the city of New York previous to the 
breaking out and during the early days of the war. 

I shall not invade the respect I have for my reader 
by writing here all my goings, my mishaps, my private 
fortunes and misfortunes. I am only glad that I happened 
to know, and see, and hear certain public men who 
have such a public interest, and are of such national 
fame, as that I may serve as an eye and ear for those 
who would have enjoyed the privilege of making their 
acquaintance in the times of their greatest service to the 
race, and their greatest personal triumph. My reader 
cannot but be thankful that I should retire, therefore, to 
give him pen-pictures of such men as I happened to know 
in private and hear in public life. 

Prominent among them was one, most written about, 
misapprehended, misunderstood, loved, honored, and 
yet not so well loved as to fall its prey, and, on the other 
hand, not so great as not fall a prey to his own ambition ; 
I mean Horace Greeley. When I first met him and felt 
his influence, he was so far in advance of his time and 
thought that he was not much loved by the masses of 
the people. Indeed, I doubt if his love of the rights of 
the masses and their love of him, were not in inverse 



I98 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

proportion one with the other. No heart ever felt 
more tenderly the force of a certain set of facts whose 
awful pressure they knew and under whose tyranny they 
groaned. If Buxton was surprised not to find Garri- 
son a black man, thinking that none but a black man 
could sympathize with the black man as he did, the 
world might have thought Horace Greeley to have been 
chameleon-like, inasmuch as he championed the ad- 
vanced rights of the oppressed of all ranks, colors, and 
creeds, as ardently and with as distinguished sympathy 
as his great contemporary. His ambition was for the 
regnancy of certain ideas. He did not, then, allow 
himself even, to stand between them and the goal. He 
was a devout lover of principle, and so true was his de- 
votion that their presidency was of more value to him 
than his own presidency. The very greatness of the 
ideas he entertained made him great. The loftiness of 
the conceptions he had, made him lofty, and the stern 
nature of the inflexible right added to his sternness, and 
made intense his inflexibility for the right when he saw 
it imperiled. His native distrust and hatred of aristoc- 
racy had been developed by a self-making and self-made 
career. His career of life began with the word industry 
and ended with it. He began to lisp that word on the 
lowest round of the ladder, and he lisped it when he 
controlled the thought of a great section of a great 
country. As he rose from strength to strength, and 
attained new power and control over the American peo- 
ple, he lost none of that native and life-grown democ- 
racy which always made him not only the thinker for 
princes and presidents, but as well the inspiring repre- 
sentative of labor, and the shining example for the 
poorest young man on the globe. I knew him first 
when, with the face of a big boy and the walk of an 
awkward country farm hand, he rushed along the street 



S. J. WOOLLEY. I99 

in that historic white coat, hurried, with his head 
bowed with the weight of his idea, and his whole body 
seemingly following that dome of thought as it led 
through the rush of people along some crowded thor- 
oughfare, flaxen hair about the base of his skull, bald 
as his head was on top, thin scraggy whiskers, light 
eye-brows, impatient, always in a hurry, he defied the 
photographer, and I think I never saw a fine picture of 
Horace Greeley. 

When he talked you might hear the genius of the Tri- 
bune. Full of idealism, ready to hear any fresh gener- 
alization or vision of the human soul, anxious for infor- 
mation, believing that there were great worlds to learn, 
he treated all with respect, had no sacred column, always 
did regard your dream and heresy, and made the 
people feel your right to do your own thinking. Of 
course he was full of vagaries, and dealt with many 
castles in the air. But great thinkers have to do a 
great deal of thinking, which never crystalizes into facts, 
to reach that thinking which shall come to be reality. 
Besides every fact was once, with God or men, a castle 
in the air. And every great thing was called a vagary 
when it lay in conception. The record of Horace 
Greeley moreover, is enough to prove that besides these 
considerations — enough to excuse all his vagaries — 
there was a tremendous per cent of truth and fact, into 
which his dream, and ideas at last solidified, and few, 
if any, were the visions he loved which did not cherish 
in their warm bosoms, the noblest destiny of the indi- 
vidual man, and carry in their sweep to God's throne 
the enlarging and brightening rights of men. 

Nobody doubted his purity of motive and that, like 
fire, burned as stubble from the fair field of his intel- 
lectual endeavor. Such, indeed, was his honesty, that, 
when mere principle was involved, he counted defeat 



200 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

as only incidental. I have seen him, with defeats 
enough to have buried a man who did not know that 
the everlastingly right and the eternally true could not 
be defeated, as happy and merry as a child. And I 
have heard him plead for charity, humanity, temperance 
and the rights of men, when another voice would have 
been hushed with despondency. On and on he went 
with his ideas, and in that period of his most triumph- 
ant carelessness of the incidents of the campaign of a 
great thought, it was a grand sight to see Horace 
Greeley lead it through successive defeats to over- 
whelming victory. 

When we have summed up all that Mr. Greeley has 
done, what he has left undone, what he made errors in 
trying to do — his life-work, I think that much must be 
put down to what has been overlooked, to what be- 
came of some common sympathy I saw in him in these 
heroic days — his intellectual tolerance, aye his intel- 
lectual friendliness to the bold, courageous, young, 
needy, and fresh thinkers with whom he came in con- 
tact. Like soft, sweet sunbeams, he fructified many a 
soul into expression and powerful utterance and if he 
did much by speaking, he did much more by touching 
other tongues, inviting other voices, and encouraging 
other utterances, which, coming from grand and vast 
natures, still rest and abide with us. 

By Mr. Greeley I was led to hear his pastor, Edwin 
Hubbel Chapin, pastor of the Fourth Universalist 
Church. After hearing him once, it needed no invita- 
tion for me to seek his church again. I at once pro- 
nounced him one of the broadest men, in the best sense 
of that term, as also one of the most truth-loving, earn- 
est, eloquent and soul-inspiring preachers I had ever 
heard. It is a progressive people led by a progressive 
preacher. That was my impression on entering church. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 20 1 

His audience room large, central, beautiful, was filled 
from Sunday to Sunday, with thinking and active men. 
Here was no place for the theological antediluvian. 
Here was no rest for the lazy soul who believed that 
Jesus had little to do with nineteenth century affairs. 
Here, on the other hand, was no room for the mere 
dreamer, the loose-jointed liberal, who shrieked for 
nothing but liberality, or the tight-fisted soul who 
clutched to any creed and its abilities to help men. 

One word of such solid sense as trembled from his 
lips to the ancient middle age devotee of his creed 
would have operated like a thunderbolt. He would 
not be bound. He would not bind others. He be- 
lieved so much in liberty that he would allow you to 
do your own thinking. For much so-called belief in 
liberty is to this effect; "you will be free if you be- 
lieve as I do, otherwise you are a slave." Chapin 
thundered forth his own liberty to scare nobody else in- 
to his creed, and he held his own freedom so sacred 
that he loved the sacredness of that of his neighbor, 
yet he was, as he yet is, far from being a man who con- 
fuses license with liberty. He has and wants other peo- 
ple to have a very definite feeling on certain matters. 

You will hear the exceeding sinfulness of sin, if you 
go to Dr. Chapin's church. The everlasting nature of 
holiness, the love of God, the grandeur of duty, from 
a certain well-defined faith, are fully set forth in his the- 
ology, and all these with him bear upon human life. 
They have to do with the life of this "hour, now and 
here ; and the glory of his imagination, the clear glance 
of his intellect, light it all up with a glow, with a heav- 
enly radiance. His culture was orthodox and evangel- 
ical. His training has not been lost. He is after men 
and their destinies, and with all the faith of the age in 
which he lives, he strives to illustrate the only idea 
25 



202 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

which exalts mankind. With all practical men, this poet- 
ic man, this orator must stand as a peer. When the 
slave was in chains, his voice pleaded in splendid elo- 
quence for him. He has been a marked and great 
friend of temperance, and no greater occasions come to 
his life, than when this man who would have been a 
great poet with the gift of song, who is one of our 
greatest orators, at all events, touches these topics. 
With a voice like a clarion, he is all enthusiasm. He 
smites, and charges, and leaves no tone of human na- 
ture untouched, as he deals with the affairs of our life. 
Instead of such theological hair-splitting as I heard in 
some of the other churches, Chapin would touch these 
vast audiences with a sermon on Home with such passa- 
ges as these : 

" I have spoken of the family as a Divine institution. 
But this should not be a mere abstraction with us. It 
should be realized and felt. And the way in which 
home is practically regarded by any of us, will prove how 
much we realize and feel these claims. Let. the father, 
the mother, the child, ask — 'What is home to me?' — 
and the answer will be the standard by which we may 
know how far, in our relations to it, the Divine purpose 
of the family is fulfilled. If we make home only a place 
to eat and sleep in, a hotel or caravansera ; if we are 
employed merely in making provision for it, and secur- 
ing temporal good ; then the Divine purpose is not 
fulfilled. 

1 ' Now it is not necessary for me to speak of gross 
violations of the duties of Home, which all would be 
prompt to condemn. But I will speak here of one 
such gross violation, more gross in the very fact that 
it is silent and perhaps unseen. I do not allude to 
acts of physical violence. I speak of blows that fall on 
naked hearts, of violence done to the deepest sanctities 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 203 

of life. I speak of affections withering from neglect — 
of confidence basely abused. I speak of vows that 
God has sealed, broken and trampled under foot. I 
speak of the shameful profligacy of husbands and 
fathers, belonging to hundreds of homes in this very 
city. I speak of men with wives and daughters, who 
make light of the sanctities of that womanhood in which 
those wives and daughters are glorified. Men breath- 
ing a moral atmosphere, one breath of which by wife 
or daughter would blast her with enduring shame. 
Men hiding their sneaking abomination with social 
decencies, and living as if they were masked from God. 
Men who, if they really felt their own meanness, would 
skulk from the face of virtue, and wilt in the light of 
innocence. Lepers of domestic infidelity. Animate 
plague spots in broadcloth and fine linen. Heads of 
families, over each of whose door-posts should be 
written the proclamation of 'a deserted home,' and 
whose foreheads should be stamped with ' the mark of 
the Beast'" 

Instead of the limping ideas of the fashionable godli- 
ness of other places, his hearers are treated to such 
psssages as this : 

" My brethren, we are fond enough of the spectacle of 
valorous duty — fond of the romance of principle, when 
we can see it delineated upon some great world-wide 
canvas, while we sit comfortably still to look at it. 
Then we say — ' Duty is a grand thing, and especially 
is it a grand thing when men hold on and suffer for it, 
and patiently wait for its postponed victory : not know- 
ing whether in their time it will gain a victory at all — 
only they are conscious that it is duty, and they suffer 
and wait on its account alone.' Permit me to illustrate 
this by an instance taken from our own history. There 
was no battle, no splendid success, in our Revolution- 



204 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

ary war, which yields such inspiration as that winter 
of dismay and suffering, when that little army of 
Washington crouched naked and starving in their miser- 
able huts, sleeping in the frost on the ' cold, bleak hill, ' 
and with the blood of their bare feet printing the snows 
of Valley Forge. No victory to cheer them , there 
was nothing to hold them together but the simple bond 
of fidelity. To make that hungry, ragged group the 
most glorious picture in our Revolutionary annals, 
there was nothing but the splendor of devotion to a 
principle that absorbed all personal considerations. 
Had success actually been in their hands, it would have 
been comparatively easy to suffer for the possession of 
it. Or even if they could have been struggling for 
success in 'the heady currents of a fight,' the object 
might have seen near enough to warm and inspire 
them. But to stand, as it seemed, far off from the 
victory; to see in that leaden winter sky no rift of 
promise ; instead of the drums that should summon 
them to conflict and therefore to hope, to hear only 
the wind rattling through the naked woods, and to 
behold in that waste of snow as it were the winding- 
sheet of liberty ; and yet to stand with their frozen 
feet unflinching at their posts, believing that in some 
way the right would triumph, at least believing that 
right is right ; waiting upon God's will now they had 
done all they could — it is this that makes that episode 
of 1778 so sublime. 

1 ' Yes, this is a great thing when represented on the 
historical canvas ; it is a great thing anywhere, because 
it is not an easy thing to do. Man will fight for prin- 
ciple, he will sacrifice for principle ; but it is a harder 
matter to wait for principle. It is a trial of our moral 
and religious strength, to do the right thing, and see 
no immediate or palpable good growing out of it. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 205 

And I say we can do this only as we recognize the fact 
that we are bound to duty ; that it is a higher will than 
our own we are serving, and therefore we are to work 
and wait, not fretting about results. Work for God, 
and then wait upon God." 

His idea of a man is the beginning of his theology. 
He often urges that, — 

"It is within that we look for the distinctiveness of 
man. Our conceptions of humanity become most per- 
plexed, our hopes most faint, not in the field of com- 
parative anatomy where the dissecting-knife and the 
microscope lay bare the material tissues that link us 
to the animal, and weave us in one web of quivering 
flesh and blood with all this mass of sensuous being 
that creeps and climbs, that howls and chatters, and 
lives and dies — not where we trace the life-roots of our 
manhood twined with those of brute existence and 
running down into the swamp of common nature. 
Not here does our ideal of humanity become most 
depressed ; but where the countenance is almost blank 
of intellectual beauty, and moral distinctions are poured 
away in dishevelled impulses, and civilizing affections 
are submerged in appetites. When the light within is 
darkness, how great is that darkness ! " 

From that he advances, and life is a continual glory 
under his idea, which so fills him, that, with such won- 
derful eloquence, my reader must imagine the effect 
of the extemporaneous delivery of such a passage as this : 

* ' Sometimes the world's form of temptation assumes 
a truly royal attitude. To some lofty spirit that would 
stoop to no mean quarry, it promises all the kingdoms 
of the world and the glory of them, if that spirit will 
only dethrone God and worship it. It offers honors of 
place, and majesties of power, and the homage of the 
multitude. Nowhere is its influence so fearfully dis- 



206 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

played as when it attacks a nature enriched with large 
gifts and capabilities, yet containing no vital germ of 
virtue, and bound by no sanction of religion, and which 
with all its splendor of movement gravitates to mere 
self-interest. A man like this may walk long in the 
path of rectitude and brush away common snares with 
his feet. But the moment he encounters something 
that touches the leading purpose of his soul, temptation 
springs upon him and Achilles is wounded in the heel. 
The statesman, the philanthropist, the severe patriot, 
is taken captive by ' ambition, the last infirmity of noble 
minds.' Is not this a very melancholy spectacle? A 
man standing in some high place of intellect and honor, 
splendid as ever in the brain, but on one side of him — 
the moral side — stricken clear down with paralysis ! A 
man saturated with the finest culture, with the most 
delicate sensibilities playing in his nature, with the 
escutcheon pride in eye and forehead, flushed with the 
heraldry of genius, scorning the temptations of the flesh, 
beating upward like an eagle towards some lofty point ; 
yet carrying a hard, cold, selfish heart, and marked as 
a deserter from the right. When some great occasion 
breaks, and imperiled justice calls to him from the 
ground, and far above all mean interests and clanging 
factions of the voice of duty summons him like the very 
trump of God, he vascillates, he takes up the lance 
droopingly, he lets the ark of the righteous cause totter, 
he cowers before the dragon of the hour, he falls away 
from the good cause, he betrays it, nay, he becomes hot 
against it ; and the words of the man that might have 
been tones of regeneration and victory, clatter upon 
our ears like ' thirty pieces of silver. ' 

' l Ah ! a man may chain his appetites, and hold the 
realm of knowledge within the cincture of his brain, 
and yet in the saddest aspect of all be overcome by the 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 207 

world. And again I say, how startling is the fact that 
one may hold on steadfastly up to a particular point, and 
there all gives way. O my brother man, meaning to 
live the life of duty, the life of religion ! the world is a 
mighty antagonist, subtle as it is strong ; more to be 
dreaded in its whispers to the heart's secret inclination 
than in gross shapes of evil. And let me say to you 
that it is a great thing in this respect to overcome the 
world. It is a great thing by God's help and your 
own effort to keep it in its place, and say to its eager 
pressure, 4 Thus far and no farther. ' A great thing, 
O merchant! to carry the clue of rectitude through the 
labyrinths of traffic, and to feel the woof of eternal 
sanctions crossing the warp of daily interests. A great 
thing, O politician ! to withstand the fickle teasings of 
popularity, to scorn the palatable lie, and keep God's 
signet upon your conscience. A great thing, O man ! 
whatever your condition, to resist the appeals of envy 
and revenge, of avarice and pleasure, and to feel that 
your life has higher ends than these. Strenuous must 
be the endeavor but proportionally best is the victory 
of him who in all these issues overcomes the world." 

Such was Chapin in those days. 

With no other man could I be so much interested. 
With, the preaching of no other man could I have been 
so much helped, as with that of Dr. Chapin, save that 
of the best abused, the best loved man in the American 
pulpit — the greatest man in the pulpit of the world — 
Henry Ward Beecher. 

As I look back upon his past, and, through the glass- 
es of my own recollection of his influence in the East, 
during these years, I see him, as I am sure history shall 
see him, as more than the great orator, the magnifi- 
cent thinker, the powerful writer, the grand reformer 
that he is — I see him as a noble, heroic man, filling all 



208 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

these, as a cup is filled and over-filled, and flowing at last 
and beyond them into all the tides of our modern life. 
Near the beginning of the war, and in its early days, it 
was an old heroism which hurled thunder and spoke 
lightnings at Plymouth Church, and we who heard him, 
felt that, though he spoke in trying circumstances then, 
he had spoken in worse days and when graver dangers 
threatened his brave heart. Manhood shone from that 
pulpit — nothing more, nothing less. It was so complete 
a manhood that it filled every niche, touched every chord, 
and baptized every sentiment with music. Beecher be- 
gun a great man, and this manhood filling a splendid 
body made him great with men. His voice touches all 
keys because he has all phases of the entertaining music 
within him. His ideas flow upon every shore, because 
the ocean of his soul, of which they are waves, touches 
the great human coast everywhere. He is to preaching 
what Shakespeare is to poetry — the myriad-minded. 
Beginning with the idea that man is sacred, he feels that 
all his work is sacred, and that if he preaches truly he 
will preach to all the activities of man. He is more 
than Chapin without being less, and takes the special 
greatnesses of his contemporaries to make himself com- 
plete. This completeness of intellectual constitution 
must always remain his greatest special talent. And it 
is the highest talent a man may possess. It makes eve- 
ry faculty strong, since each faculty relieves the other. 
It is the strength of a convocation of powers into one 
manhood. I have hinted of the practical heroism of 
Mr. Beecher at this time. 

A few examples will suffice and illustrate the amaz- 
ing clearness of his ideas of the New Testament 
with relation to the great problem of slavery. I 
need not mention his personal history in connection 
with the broken shackles of the slave. It is known 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 209 

the world around, and it only came from the same 
faith as these words which I quote, as having a great 
influence at the time. Every Sunday was an ex- 
cited day. But one Sunday, October 30, 1859, J onn 
Brown lay in prison, and languishingly awaited his trial 
for his inaugurating the revolution which freed the slave, 
at Harper's Ferry. The campaign for Abraham Lin- 
coln had just begun and was waxing warm. The lead- 
ers on the other side took advantage of the fact that 
Brown had, under those circumstances, precipitated af- 
fairs, and represented to the people that such was only 
a premature and significant exhibition of what the Re- 
publican party intended to do against the rights of the 
South. This was an occasion for Mr. Beecher. He 
saw the need of vindicating the friends of liberty, and 
no one who sat in that vast audience will forget how he 
arose, and with a voice that spoke the great tender but 
heroic soul within him, announced in clear tones the 
terrible words in Jeremiah vi, 16 — 19. He stopped, 
fixed his eyes, shook his head, and said with great emo- 
tion : "This is a terrible message." He pointed out 
their history, and eloquently, but in a low tone of voice, 
told the circumstance of Harper's Ferry. Then he said, 
in a strong voice, his face quivering with satire ; 

"Seventeen men terrified two thousand brave Virgin- 
ians into two days' submission — that cannot be got over ! 
The common sense of common people will not fail to 
see through all attempts to hide a natural shame by a 
bungling make-believe that the danger was really greater 
than it was ! The danger was nothing, and the fear very 
great, and the courage none at all. And nothing can 
now change the facts ! Ail the newspapers on earth 
will not make this case appear any better. Do what you 
please — muster a crowd of supposed confederates, call 
the roll of conspirators, include the noblest men of these 
26 



2 TO LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

States, and exhibit this imaginary army before the peo- 
ple, and, in the end, it will appear that seventeen white 
men overawed a town of two thousand brave Virginians, 
and held them captives until the sun had gone laughing 
twice around the globe ! 

"And the attempt to hide the fear of these surround- 
ed men by awaking a larger fear will never do. It is too 
literal a fulfillment, not exactly of prophecy, but of fa- 
ble ; not of Isaiah, but of ^Esop. 

' ' A fox having been caught in a trap, escaped with 
the loss of his tail. He immediately went to his brother 
foxes to persuade them that they would all look better 
if they too would cut off their tails. They declined. 
And our two thousand friends, who lost their courage 
in the presence of seventeen men, are now making an 
appeal to this nation to lose its courage too, that the 
cowardice of the few may be hidden in the cowardice of 
the whole community ! It is impossible. We choose 
to wear our courage for some time longer!" 

He then sketched in glowing sentences John Brown's 
life, when he said : 

' ' Let no man pray that Brown be spared. Let Vir- 
ginia make him a martyr. Now, he has only blundered. 
His soul was noble; his work miserable. But a cord 
and a gibbet would redeem all that, and round up Brown's 
failure with a heroic success." 

The occasion had come. Beecher was aroused. He 
could not save Brown. But he could and did show the 
Nation's duty to slavery. He pleaded for the Christian 
spirit toward the South earnestly. He said he hated 
their slavery. He crushed the idea of stirring up the 
discontented bondsmen. He made that vast audience 
weep when he told the bondman's sufferings. But to 
walk this fine line of truth was not the hardest task of 
that occasion. He had to tell the North how it could 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 211 

help and ought to help the day of freedom on. He 
was pale, then flushed ; he rose to the grandest heights, 
and hushed them with his eloquent whispers while he 
pleaded for a right sentiment at the North. He said : 
"If we would benefit the African at the South, we 
must begin at the North. This is to some men the most 
disagreeable part of the doctrine of emancipation. It is 
very easy to labor for the emancipation of beings a 
thousand miles off; but the practical application of jus- 
tice and humanity to those about us is not so agreeable. 
The truths of God respecting the rights and dignities of 
men are just as important to free colored men as to en- 
slaved colored men. The lever with which to lift the 
load of Georgia is in New York. I do not believe the 
whole free North can tolerate grinding injustice toward 
the poor, and inhumanity toward the laboring classes, 
without exerting an influence unfavorable to justice and 
humanity in the South. No one can fail to see the in- 
consistency between our treatment of those amongst us 
who are in the lower walks of life and our professions of 
sympathy for the Southern slaves. How are the free 
colored people treated at the North? They are almost 
without education, and with but little sympathy for their 
ignorance. They are refused the common rights of cit- 
izenship which the whites enjoy. They cannot even 
ride in the cars of our city railroads. They are snuffed 
at in the house of God, or tolerated with ill-concealed 
disgust. Can the black man be a mason in New York ? 
Let him be employed as a journeyman, and every Irish 
lover of liberty that carries the hod or trowel would 
leave at once or compel him to leave ! Can the black 
man be a carpenter ? There is scarcely a carpenter's shop 
in New York in which a journeyman would continue to 
work, if a black man was employed in it. Can the black 
man engage in the common industries of life? There is 



212 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

scarcely one from which he is not excluded. He is 
crowded down, down, down, through the most menial 
callings, to the bottom of society. We tax them, and 
then refuse to allow their children to go to our public 
schools. We heap upon them moral obloquy more 
atrocious than that which the master heaps upon the 
slave. And, notwithstanding all this, we lift ourselves 
up to talk to the Southern people about the rights and 
liberties of the human soul, and especially the African 

SOUl | *P *fc 'f- 5J 4 JfC 

" Whenever we are prepared to show toward the low- 
est, the poorest, and the most despised an unaffected 
kindness, such as led Christ, though the Lord of Glory, 
to lay aside his dignities, and to take on himself the form 
of a servant, and suffer an ignominious death, that he 
might rescue men from ignorance and bondage — when- 
ever we are prepared to do such things as these, we may 
be sure that the example of the North will not be unfelt 
at the South. Every effort that is made in Brooklyn to 
establish schools and churches for the free colored peo- 
ple, and to encourage them to educate themselves and 
to become independent, is a step toward emancipation 
in the South. The degradation of free colored men in 
the North will fortify slavery in the South !" 

He held that audience under those painful facts for 
over an hour, and with great applause he closed the ar- 
gument with such a plea for the slave, and such a with- 
ering scorn of "timid priests and lying societies," as 
seemed to be in keeping with the prophet of the olden 
time. 

As the war advanced his splendid enthusiasm rose 
and his solutions of grave problems became more and 
more clear, and his broad statesmanship was seen more 
and more inclusive of the best visions of the future. 

Before he left college, he had identified himself with 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 213 

the anti-slavery party, and he was always conspicuous 
among its advocates. A perfect storm of abuse had 
been heaped upon him for having had a negro sit upon 
his pulpit, and he added to its awful darkness by having 
Wendell Phillips deliver his most eloquent address on 
"The Lesson of the Hour," from Plymouth pulpit. 

Thanksgiving Day, November 29, i860, he preached 
another great sermon to a magnificent audience, against 
any sort of compromise of principle, which was so elo- 
quent that the audience got beyond all control and be- 
came noisy in its demonstration of enthusiasm. It was 
a time long to be remembered, when, standing like an 
oak which tosses its branches in the gale, he quietly said 
in mellow, but clear tones, what almost falls into poetry : 

" I need not remind you of the year that is closing. 
Who knew, when January set her cold, calm face toward 
the future, that she was the herald of such a summer? 
When was there ever a year so fertile? so propitious to 
all industry? It has been a procession of rejoicing 
months, flower-wreathed and fruit-laden — a very holiday 
year ! 

"The soil awoke with new ardor; everything that 
lived by the soil felt the inspiration. Every root, and 
every blade, and every stem, and every bough has this 
year taxed itself for prodigal bounty. Except a narrow 
strip, this continent has been so blessed with husbandry 
as to make this year memorable even among years hith- 
erto most eminent. The meadow, the tilled fields, the 
grazing pastures, the garden, the vineyard, the orchard, 
the very fence-row berry-bushes and wild wall-vines, 
have been clothed with unexampled bounty and beauty. 
Nature seems to have lacked messengers to convey her 
intents of kindness, and the summer, like a road sur- 
prised with quadruple freights, has not been able to find 
conveyance for all its treasures. The seas have felt the 



214 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

divine ardor. The fisherman never reaped such harvests 
from the moist furrows of the ocean as this year. These 
husbandmen of the sea, who reap where they have not 
sowed and grow rich upon harvests which they have not 
tilled, have this year put in the crooked hook for their 
sickle with admiring gladness for the strange and un- 
wonted abundance of the deep." 

And then he took up a copy of the paper containing 
the following proclamation : 

" Mayor's Office, New York, 
1 ' November 24, 1 860. 

" Proclamation. — In accordance with custom and 
the proclamation of the Governor of the State, it be- 
comes my duty, as Mayor, to recommend to the people 
of this city the observance of Thursday, the 29th inst, 
as a day of ' Thanksgiving and Prayer. ' 

" While in my judgment the country, either in its po- 
litical, commercial, or financial aspect, presents no fea- 
tures for which we should be thankful, we are yet called 
upon by every consideration of self-preservation to offer 
up to the Father of all mercies devout and fervent pray- 
er, for his interposition and protection from the impend- 
ing evils which threaten our institutions and the material 
interests of the people. 

' ' Therefore, acknowledging our dependence on Al- 
mighty God, and deeply sensible of our own unworthi- 
ness, let the day set apart as Thanksgiving be observed 
by the people of this city as one of humiliation and sup- 
plication — not omitting in our prayers the expression of 
the hope that those who have, in violation of the Fed- 
eral compact, unpatriotically and unwisely inflicted these 
injuries upon us, may be the only sufferers by their own 
wickedness and folly. 

"[l.s.] Given under my hand and seal, the day and 
year aforesaid. Fernando Wood, Mayor." 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 215 

And with withering, awful scorn, remarked concern- 
ing it as follows : 

" All the sons of God rejoice, and all good men re- 
joice. It needs but one element to complete the satis- 
faction. If we could be sure that this is God's mercy, 
meant for good, and tending thereto, we should have a 
full cup to-day. That satisfaction is not denied us. 
The Mayor of New York, in a public proclamation, in 
view of this prodigal year, that has heaped the poor 
man's house with abundance, is pleased to say that 
there is no occasion apparent to him for thanksgiving. 
We can ask no more. When bad men grieve at the state 
of public affairs, good men should rejoice. When infam- 
ous men keep fast, righteous men should have thanks- 
giving. God reigns and the Devil trembles. Amen. 
Let us rejoice! " 

He then began to enumerate other reasons, national, 
international and human, for thanksgiving. Old Ply- 
mouth church literally rocked with enthusiasm when he 
pleaded against any compromise of principle. And as a 
great lawyer leaves a jury, knowing their verdict, he left 
that audience, speaking in their souls his last words : 

''When night is on the deep, when the headlands are 
obscured by the darkness, and when storm is in the air, 
that man who undertakes to steer by looking over the 
side of the ship, over the bow, or over the stern, or by 
looking at the clouds or his own fears, is a fool. There 
is a silent needle in the binnacle, which points like the 
finger of God, telling the mariner which way to steer, and 
enabling him to outride the storm, and reach the harbor 
in safety. And what the compass is to navigation, that 
is moral principle in political affairs. Whatever the issue 
may be, we have but one thing to do, and that is to look 
where the compass of God points, and steer that way. 
You need not fear shipwreck when God is the pilot. 



2l6 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

' ' The latter-day glory is already dawning. God is 
calling to the nations. The long-oppressed are arousing. 
The despotic thrones are growing feeble. It is an age of 
liberty. The trumpet is sounding in all the world, and 
one nation after another is moving to the joyful sound, 
and God is mustering the great army of liberty under his 
banners! In this day, shall America be found laggard? 
While despotisms are putting off the garments of oppres- 
sion, shall she pluck them up and put them on? While 
France and Italy, Germany and Russia, are advancing 
toward the dawn, shall we recede toward midnight? 

''From this grand procession of nations, with faces 
lightened by liberty, shall we be missing? While they 
advance toward a brighter day, shall we, with faces lurid 
with oppression, slide downward toward the pit which 
gapes for injustice and crime? 

"Let every good man arouse and speak the truth for 
liberty. Let us have an invincible courage for liberty. 
Let us have moderation in passions, zeal in moral senti- 
ments, a spirit of conciliation and concession in mere 
material interests, but unmovable firmness for principles ; 
and — foremost of all political principles — for Liberty! " 

When Fort Sumter was being besieged, April 14, 
1 86 1, all hearts were fluttering. Mr. Beecher, on Sun- 
day morning, arose, and after a most wonderful prayer, 
announced as his text these words : "And the Lord 
said unto Moses, wherefore criest thou unto me ? speak 
unto the children of Israel, that they go forward." He 
piled up history and touched the leaves of the past with 
light. He deduced from the interesting search the idea 
that ' ' when men stand for a moral principle, their trou- 
bles are not a presumption that they are in the wrong. 
Since the world began, men that have stood for the right 
have had to stand for it, as Christ stood for the world, 
suffering for victory. And the whole lesson of the past 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 217 

is, that safety and honor come by holding fast to one's 
principles ; by pressing them with courage ; by going 
into darkness and defeat cheerfully for them." He 
looked out with a bold, firm gaze, and said, " And now 
our turn has come. Right before us lies the Red Sea 
of war." He rushed into the full flood of his theme. 
The very branches swayed, for the storm had come. A 
man stepped upon the platform. A bit of paper lay on 
his desk. He halted not. He was most eloquent as he 
read the small message. On went the orator thrilling 
all souls, until he got them to see that to love liberty is 
a thing not to be modified by any change in circum- 
stance. Then he said : 

"It is trying to live in suspense, to be in the torment- 
ing whirl of rumor, now to see the banner up, and now 
to see it trailing in the dust. Early yesterday things 
seemed inauspicious. Toward evening all appeared calm 
and fair. To-day disastrous and depressing rumors were 
current. This morning I came hither sad from the tidings 
that that stronghold which seemed to guard the precious 
name and lasting fame of the noble and gallant Anderson, 
had been given up ; but since I came into this desk I 
have received a dispatch from one of our most illustrious 
citizens, saying that Sumter is reinforced, and that Moul 
trie is the fort that has been destroyed." 

The applause was simply deafening. Handkerchiefs, 
hats, canes, umbrellas, were all in use, and cheers and 
shouts broke forth in an awful din. He saw that he had 
not done all. The orator was equal to the occasion. 
As no one can forget, he closed by saying : 

"But what if the rising sun to-morrow shall reverse 
the message? What if the tidings that greet you 
in the morning shall be but the echo of the old tid- 
ings of disaster? You live in hours in which you 
are to suffer suspense. Now lifted up, you will be 
27 



2l8 LIEE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

prematurely cheering, and now cast down, you will be 
prematurely desponding. Look forward, then, past the 
individual steps, the various vicissitudes of experience, 
to the glorious end that is coming ! Look beyond the 
present to that assured victory that awaits us in the 
future. 

" Young men, you will live to see more auspicious 
days. Later sent, delayed in your voyage into life, you 
will see the bright consummation, in part at least, of 
that victory of this land, by which, with mortal throes, 
it shall cast out from itself all morbific influences, and 
cleanse itself from slavery. And you that are in middle 
life shall see the ultimate triumph advancing beyond 
anything that you have yet known. The scepter shall 
not depart. The government shall not be shaken from 
its foundations. 

"Let no man, then, in this time of peril, fail to asso- 
ciate himself with that cause which is to be so entirely 
glorious. Let not your children, as they carry you to 
your burial, be ashamed to write upon your tombstone 
the truth of your history. Let every man that lives 
and owns himself an American, take the side of true 
American principles ; — liberty for one, and liberty for 
all; liberty now, and liberty forever; liberty as the 
foundation of government, and liberty as the basis of 
union; liberty as against revolution, liberty, against 
anarchy, and liberty, against slavery ; liberty here and 
liberty everywhere, the world through ! 
" When the trumpet of God has sounded, and that grand 
procession is forming ; as Italy has risen, and is wheeling 
into the ranks; as Hungary, though mute, is beginning 
to beat time, and make ready for the march ; as Poland, 
having long slept, has dreamt of liberty again, and is 
waking ; as the thirty million serfs are hearing the roll 
pf the drum, and are going forward toward citizen- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 210 

ship — let it not be your miserable fate, nor mine, to live 
in a nation that shall be seen reeling and staggering and 
wallowing in the orgies of despotism ! We, too, have 
a right to march in this grand procession of liberty. By 
the memory of the fathers ; by the sufferings of the 
Puritan ancestry ; by the teaching of our national his- 
tory ; by our faith and hope of religion ; by every line 
of the Declaration of Independence, and every article 
of our Constitution ; by what we are and what our pro- 
genitors were — we have a right to walk foremost in this 
procession of nations toward the bright millennial 
future !" 

Another occasion of great interest at Plymouth 
Church during the war, was when the two companies 
of the Brooklyn Fourteenth, who were, many of them, 
members of Plymouth church, met there for the last 
time previous to their going to the war. The church 
at the close of the service raised $3,000 for their equip- 
ment. The chief source of inspiration was Mr. Beech- 
er's sermon and prayer — which latter is always wonder- 
ful. He spoke on the National flag. Passages like 
these were irresistible : 

" This nation has a banner ; and until recently where 
ever it streamed abroad men saw day-break bursting on 
their eyes. For until lately the American flag has been 
a symbol of Liberty, and men rejoiced in it. Not ano- 
ther flag on the globe had such an errand, or went forth 
upon the sea carrying everywhere, the world around, 
such hope to the captive, and such glorious tidings. 
The stars upon it were to the pining nations like the 
bright morning stars of God, and the stripes upon it 
were beams of morning light. As at early dawn the 
stars shine forth even while it grows light, and then as 
the sun advances that light breaks into banks and stream- 
ing lines of color, the glowing red and intense white 



220 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

striving together, and ribbing the horizon with bars ef- 
fulgent, so, on the American flag, stars and beams of 
many-colored light shine out together. And wherever 
this flag comes, and men behold it, they see in its sacred 
emblazonry no ramping lion, and no fierce eagle; no 
embattled castles, or insignia of imperial authority ; they 
see the symbols of light. It is the banner of Dawn. It 
means Liberty ; and the galley-slave, the poor, oppressed 
conscript, the trodden-down creature of foreign despot- 
ism, sees in the American flag that very promise and 
prediction of God — 'The people which sat in darkness 
saw a great light; and to them which sat in the region 
and shadow of death light is sprung up. ' * * 

" This American flag was the safeguard of liberty. 
Not an atom of crown was allowed to go into its insignia. 
Not a symbol of authority in the ruler was permitted to 
go into it. It was an ordinance of liberty by the people 
for the people. That it meant, that it means, and, by 
the blessing of God, that it shall mean to the end of 
time ! 

* * For God Almighty be thanked ! that, when base 
and degenerate Southern men desired to set up a nefa- 
rious oppression, at war with every legend and every 
instinct of old American history, they could not do it 
under our bright flag ! Its stars smote them with light 
like arrows shot from the bow of God. They must 
have another flag for such work ; and they forged an 
infamous flag to do an infamous work, and, God be 
blessed ! left our bright and starry banner untainted and 
untouched by disfigurement and disgrace ! I thank them 
that they took another flag to do the devil's work, and 
left our flag to do the work of God ! [Applause.] So 
may it ever be, that men that would forge oppression 
shall be obliged to do it under some other banner than 
the Stars and Stripes." 



S. J. WOOLLEY. i 221 

" If ever the sentiment of our text, then was fulfilled, 
it has been in our glorious American banner: — 

' Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee.' 

1 ' Our fathers were God-fearing men. Into their hands 
Cod committed this banner, and they have handed it 
down to us. And I thank God that it is still in the 
hands of men that fear Him and love righteousness. 

' Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee, 
that it may be displayed. ' 

' ' And displayed it shall be. Advanced full against the 
morning light, and borne with the growing and the glow- 
ing day, it shall take the last ruddy beams of the night, 
and from the Atlantic wave, clear across with eagle flight 
to the Pacific, that banner shall float, meaning all the 
liberty that it has ever meant ! From the North, where 
snows and mountain ice stand solitary, clear to the glow- 
ing tropics and the Gulf, that banner that has hitherto 
waved shall wave and wave forever, — every star, every 
band, every thread and fold significant of liberty ! [Great 
applause.] 

"I do not doubt your patriotism. I know it is hard 
for men that are full of feeling not to give expression to 
it ; yet excuse me if I request you to refrain from dem- 
onstrations of applause while I am speaking. It is not 
because I think Sunday too good a day, nor the church 
too holy a place for patriotic Christian men to express 
their feelings at such a time as this, and in behalf of such 
sentiments, but because by too frequent repetition ap- 
plause becomes stale and common, that I make this re- 
quest. Besides, outward expression is not our way. 
We are rather of a silent stock. We let our feelings 
work inwardly, so that they may have deeper channels 
and fuller floods. 

1 ' ' Thou hast given a banner to them that fear thee, 
that it may be displayed because of the tfuth. ' 



222 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OE 

But they forgot his request, when the orator spoke 
about the closing of the route through Baltimore, and 
hinted that Washington was reached only by Annapo- 
lis, in these words : 

"That flag must go to the capital of this nation ; and 
it must go not hidden, not secreted, not in a case or cov- 
ering, but advanced full high, displayed, bright as the 
sun, clear as the moon, terrible as an army with banners ! 
For a single week that disgraceful crook, that shame- 
ful circuit may be needful ; but the way from New Eng- 
land, the way from New York, the way from New Jer- 
sey and Pennsylvania to Washington, lies right through 
Baltimore ; and that is the way the flag must and shall 

go!" 

Another cheer came with great enthusiasm. 

During the war, great occasions were continually 
coming to this church. A great preacher living in a 
great time, can hardly keep them off. Indeed it is gen - 
erally a great occasion twice a Sunday and once on 
Friday evening, because this great soul pours its life 
out then. But those who were there, will always re- 
member the occasion when Mr. Beecher preached on 
Fort Sumpter anniversary days, the Emancipation 
Proclamation, a sermon demanding energy of adminis- 
tration, and the great statesmen who came there will 
not forget the deep discussions of the basic faith of civ- 
ilization as they were given from Plymouth pulpit. 
For Mr. Beecher, to begin with, is a thinker. He has 
investigated the problem of government, thoroughly. 
He is abreast of the times by being abreast with 
eternity. He understands the weight and bearing of 
policies, political ideas, and the clearness in which he 
holds principle and the grasp with which he holds the 
history of the past, enable him to think in the atmos- 
phere of both. As a specimen of the depth which Mr. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 223 

Beecher seeks in these affairs, his sermon preached during 
the war, on "Liberty under Law," is an example. 
The whole genius of republicanism lies within its wise 
eloquence, and the student of the organic strength of 
our institutions can do no better than to read with 
thought the sermons of Henry Ward Beecher on sub- 
jects connected with government. 

But this is only one phase of his many sided genius 
and his many sided activity. I mention this because 
his industry elsewhere is better known, because I was 
familiar with it, because also we are too likely to forget 
that among the intellectual heroes of our late struggle, 
Henry Ward Beecher is the peer of any. Slander may 
touch him, but Liberty will always love him, and eter- 
nal justice will keep his name bright forever. History 
will always see him as did that great audience in the 
Academy of Music, advancing to a negro, and amid a 
frenzy of enthusiasm offering his warm hand, and say- 
ing; "As the representative of one race, I extend to 
you, the representative of another, the right hand of 
fellowship." 

I must not, by any haste or over-sight, omit to say 
that prior to this time, that matchless thinker and fearless 
apostle, Theodore Parker, had had much to do in giving 
inspiration and form to my thought. Those who have 
had any serious regard for the destiny of free institu- 
tions, on the one hand, and any profound love for a 
liberal and earnest religion, on the other, will not fail to 
point to him as one who blessed both with his warm 
palms of fervid enthusiasm. It is said of a certain promi- 
inent figure in political England, that you may split his 
reputation up, and each fragment is enough to prove and 
establish his greatness unto his own and succeeding 
generations. Such was Theodore Parker. Every strug- 
gle of freedom to prevent encroachments of slavery, will 



224 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

quote his name. In the history of anti-slavery in this 
country, he earned the title of greatness. On that alone 
his reputation for ages is certain. But he need not de- 
pend upon that alone. For, towering above all others of 
his day, with all his faults and eccentricities, he was the 
foremost prophet of an absolute religion. Every struggle 
of the spirit against the letter counts in the charm of his 
name. Every combat of ideas as against traditions 
calls him one of its Saints. Every battle of the sim- 
ple truth against that spirit, which exalts into sacred- 
ness its hereditary trappings, names his arguments as 
its. own. 

As time goes on, and the battle becomes more and 
more clearly understood, we see the value of that early 
heroism of this ardent man. Many a man who does 
not agree with him in his views of God and human sin, 
and who would not love to have his name connected 
with that of the Boston prophet, has used the better 
public sentiment, which Parker created, in which to pub- 
lish his ideas. Many a man within the limits of con- 
servatism, has declined to suspect any likeness unto 
this great radical, and yet has done things in public 
speech, which, had not Theodore Parker done, so much 
more thirty years ago, would not have been done safely. 
It is half amusing to note how conservatism gradually 
comes to accept radicalism, when it is not told that it is 
becoming radical. So that Theodore Parker is far more 
near to the heart of this generation than he was to the 
generation preceding us. Indeed, he was so great a 
prophet that he not only prophesied the thought of 
our time, but that of the time yet to come. All truth- 
seekers are indebted to him, not more — yea, not so 
much — for the truth he found, as for the method he in- 
spired, which, in the hands of truth-seekers, can not 
but succeed. That man who gives me truth, has not 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 225 

done so much for me as He who gives me the method 
of finding it for myself. This was Parker's mission — to 
show to the thought of his time that truth was a stern re- 
ality and she must be grasped by fearless hands ; that 
courage was demanded in her pursuit; that once 
having been won by boldness she delighted to live with 
a brave soul. Unconciously to our time, the method of 
Parker has become the method of our day. He was 
called an iconoclast, and now the image-breaking is 
going on in our time. He was said to be a dangerous 
man because he insisted on the fundamental facts of re- 
ligion and laughed at the old tradition, and now our day 
tends to do the same. If there is more ease in fearless 
thinking ; if there is less friction in the progress of liberal 
thought ; if there is more tolerance to-day than there 
was thirty years ago, it is largely because of the manly 
radicalism of that earnest man. 

His two reputations blend, because the inspiration of 
one is the result of the other. There is a good deal of 
liberalism in theology that is lazy and ineffective. 
Parker's was a working liberality. Much of our vaunted 
"breadth of thinking" is vague and not practical. 
Parker's was as practical as a steam engine. The ma- 
jority of radicals are destructionists. Parker was a de- 
structionist that he might be a constructionist. He was 
so practical, effective, and serious with his views of man 
that he fought the hell-begotten institution of slavery 
with all his might. He wanted bondage destroyed 
that freedom's temple might be constructed. He was 
not as anxious for the death of slavery as he was for the 
life of liberty. This made his religion and his anti-sla- 
very walk hand in hand. 



28 



CHAPTER XV. 



A CONSPIRACY AND ITS DEFKAT. 

It has always seemed to me that a strange, though 
eloquent pathos, lingered about that sentence of our 
Lord : " Father, the hour is come." He had denounced 
the religious leaders of the nation. He had uttered his 
brave opposition to the society which hedged him about. 
As Bengel says, the Greeks had come to Jerusalem at 
the Feast-time, and had been welcomed by him, " as the 
prelude of the transition of the kingdom of God from the 
Jew to the Gentile." Then it seemed to him that noth- 
ing remained but his death to make his work triumph. 
It had been self-sacrificing all the way ; and something, 
at last, had been gained. But it was only as a simple 
seed. He must put it into the ground by the greater 
act of self-sacrifice. It must be watered by His tears. 
It must be enriched in its growth by His blood. He 
must die, that that for which He had worked so long 
might live. How gladly He opened His heart to 
the approaching sadness ! How joyously He confronts 
the oncoming doom ! How freely He accepts the death 
which approaches Him ! It is His crucifixion, His cruel 
murder, His awful agony of suffering that He con- 
templates; and yet He says: " Father, the hour is 
come." 

Poets have looked through the indifference with which 
the public received their verses and said, as they 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 227 

dreamed that they saw a time when men would recog- 
nize their genius : 4< Oh, that will be theh.our." Heroes 
have gazed through battle-heat, and storms of conflict, 
to imagine an hour when the laurels would fall on their 
brow, and they have said : " that will be the hour of my 
whole life." Orators have looked through the still con- 
tempt of the crowds and the hisses of their audiences 
and have found a reason to believe that some day these 
same audiences shall wait to crown them ; and they 
have said: "That will be the time of all." But the 
Saviour of the world saw death, crucifixion cruel and 
awful, coming over the hills of His life with a cross and 
a grave and looking these insignia of defeat in the face, 
He nobly said : "Father, the hour is come. All my 
self-sacrifice was led up to this Calvary mountain. All 
my efforts to be and to do Thy will have been paths to 
this summit, which I shall have to sprinkle with my 
blood. All this life of poverty and conflict with the 
world, all this love of my race, all this help I have 
given to men — all of these lead to this consummate sacri- 
fice, this greatest self-denial, this death of myself. The 
hour for which I have lived is come." 

1 have wondered recently if every life of effort and 
self-sacrifice has not to suffer one last Calvary that it may 
gain one everlasting triumph. I have thought so much 
of this that I find, without intending any comparison, 
that the life which I have lived, beginning in poverty, 
and all the way seeking to help those whom the Provi- 
dence of Heaven have thrown within my path, would 
not have had the completeness it needed to make it a 
unit of value to mankind or to God, if in its afternoon, 
as the shadows grow longer and the evening comes on, 
I had not been compelled to try and bear a cross that I 
could not carry, to walk up a mountain that had thieves 
upon it, and there on a gibbet erected by the foulest 



228 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

conspiracy I have known, made by hands which had 
long been working the dire event, to surrender the life 
which I tried to live as an appeasing to cruel and 
wretched enemies. 

I am, as it were, this side of the moral victory now. 
I am where I see the tremendous glory for me which 
lay in that hour of trial. I can now measure only 
a few of the blessings of the sacrifice to which I was led, 
but the hour for which I had lived seemed then an hour 
of crudest persecution as now I can say it was the 
hour in which my whole life found its victory. 

Because of the organic relation of the whole event to 
my life, the reader will pardon the length of the story. 
I shall open it by calling attention to the fact that 
in the Franklin county court, the following indictment 
was found : 

THE STATE OF OHIO, \ 
Franklin County, ss. J 

In the Court of Common Pleas, Franklin County, Ohio, 
of the term of January, in the year of our Lord one 
thousand eight hundred and eighty. 
1st count : The Jurors of the Grand Jury of the State 
of Ohio, duly elected, empaneled, sworn, and charged 
to enquire of crimes and offences committed within the 
body of Franklin County, in the State of Ohio, in the 
name and by the authority of the State of Ohio, upon 
their oaths, do find and present, that Thomas L. Moore, 
Charles Fleming, and John Elliott, late of said County, 
on the third day of September, in the year of our Lord, 
one thousand eight hundred and seventy-nine, at the 
County of Franklin, aforesaid, unlawfully, willfully, 
feloniously, verbally did demand of one Solomon J. 
Woolley, with menaces, certain money, to wit : the sum 
of five hundred dollars ($$oo.oo), of the value of 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 229 

Five Hundred Dollars, and certain chattels, and valu- 
able securities, to wit : certain promisory notes of the 
amount and value of three hundred dollars ($300.00), 
the money and property of the said Solmon J. Woolley, 
with interest then and there, and thereby to extort and 
gain from the Solmon J. Woolley said money, chattels, 
and valuable securities, contrary to the Statute in such 
cases, made and provided, and against the peace and 
dignity of the State of Ohio. 

2d count : And the Jurors aforesaid, by the authority 
aforesaid, upon their oaths as aforasaid, do further find 
and present that the said Thomas L. Moore, John El- 
liot, and Charles Fleming, on the day and year afore- 
said, at the county aforesaid, unlawfully, willfully, and 
feloniously did accuse one Solomon J. Woolley, then 
and there being of the crime of unlawfully and mali- 
ciously procuring a barn of the value of four hundred 
and fifty dollars ($450.00), the same being his own 
property, situate in Franklin County, Ohio, and in- 
sured against loss or damage by fire, to be burned, 
with intent thereby to prejudice the insurer thereof, 
said crime being punishable by the laws of the State of 
Ohio, with imprisonment in the Ohio Penitentiary with 
the intent, then and there by means of such unlawful 
accusation to extort and gain from the said Solomon J. 
Woolley, certain money, to wit : the sum of five hun- 
dred dollars and certain chattels and valuable securities, 
to wit : certain promisory notes of the amount and 
value of three hundred dollars, said money, chatties, 
and valuable securities being then and there the 
property of said Solomon J. Woolley, contrary to the 
Statute in such case made and provided, and against 
the peace and dignity of the State of Ohio. 

WILLIAM J. CLARKE, 
Prosecuting Attorney y Franklin County, Ohio. 



23O LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

No. 1 86 1. Franklin Common Pleas. The State of 
Ohio, vs. Thomas L. Moore, Charles Fleming, and John 
Elliott. Indictment for blackmailing. A true bill. 

J. W. DURANT, 

Foreman of Grand Jury. 

Filed January 16th, 1880. 

H. CASHATT, Clerk. 
WM. J. CLARKE, 

Prosecuting Attorney, Franklin County, Ohio. 

On this 30th, day of January, 1880, Defendant, 
Charles Fleming, arraigned, and pleads not guilty to 

this indictment. 

H. CASHATT, Clerk, 
J. C. GETRUE, Deputy. 

On this 1 6th day of February, A. D., 1880, Thomas 
Moore and John Elliott, defendants, arraigned and plead 
each not guilty to this indictment. 

H. CASHATT, 
J. C. GETRUE. 

After delays innumerable, in which justice seemed 
often to be friendless, in which it took the patience com- 
mended by the strictest code of morals, John Elliott, 
having been jointly indicted with the others for the 
grave offense, and who had, at his own request, been 
awarded a separate trial at the April term, 1880, of the 
Franklin county common pleas court, was tried. I well 
remember to have had no such pleasant sensations as 
when I heard the words read aloud : " State of Ohio 
vs. John W. Elliott," by Judge Geo. W. Lincoln. 
Of course everybody expected the trial. But delays 
are a part of the scheme of injustice and wrong, and no 
sooner had the hush come over that court-room, full of 
my friends, and the few adherents of these criminals, 



S. j. WOOLLEY. 231 

than an affidavit was made by the attorneys of the de- 
fense to continue the case. Promptly did the Judge, 
who, perhaps, had found out that dilatory motions and 
legal filibustering had been and would be the main 
work of the vigilant and enthusiastic attorneys of Elliott, 
over-ruled that motion on the grounds that it was the 
second application, and. that the court granted the privi- 
lege of filing an affidavit, setting forth the matter in ac- 
cordance with it, that it may be submitted on its merits 
and be used as testimony. To this the defense made 
an exception — the first of that remarkable series which 
distinguished this trial. Then the defense filed an affi- 
davit setting forth facts which they expected to prove, 
and the defense also took objection as to the ruling of 
the court compelling them to go to trial on the affidavit 
submitted. At this point my counsel on the part of the 
State made a motion for a special venire which motion 
was sustained without objection on the part of the de- 
fense — an almost solitary case of harmony as between 
the lawyers of both sides. The day had by this time 
been consumed; and at nine o'clock, May nth, the 
court-room was full and the case went on. Two talis- 
men were excluded from the jury on the grounds that 
one of them had been on the grand jury which found 
the indictment, and the other had formed and expressed 
his opinion of the issue. Two others were called when 
the special venire was requested by the State, to which 
of course, the defense duly objected. Mr. Joseph H. 
Outhwaite opened the case. Judge Rankin, as counsel 
for the defense, asked to have the witnesses on the part 
of the State excluded from the room. And the court, 
to the astonishment of the attorneys for Elliott, ordered 
the witnesses on the part of both the State and defense 
to be excluded from the room. To this the attorneys 
for the defense objected in strong terms and with great 



232 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

earnestness. Thereupon the witnesses tor the detense 
were permitted to remain. 

The first witness called was Mr. D. E. Seely, of 
Westerville, Ohio. Mr. Outhwaite conducted the ex- 
amination in chief, and elicited from Mr. Seely the fol- 
lowing points : 

In September, 1879, he was acting as an insurance 
agent for the Ohio Farmer's company. He swore that 
on or about the 3d day of September, 1879, a man came 
to Westerville and telling him that his name was Elliott 
proceeded to talk about his paying a loss to myself on a 
barn which burned. He was a stranger to Mr. Seely 
at that time, but Mr. Seely recognized Elliott, who sat 
near his attorney, as the man. Elliott asked Mr. Seely 
on that occasion if it was not about four hundred dollars 
which he paid me. Answering him that it was not that 
sum. Elliott began a series of questions about the lo- 
cation of the office, and other things, which were 
quite far from the facts concerning the company repre- 
sented by Mr. Seely. To use Mr. Seely's words on 
the witness stand : 

"He then said that he was prepared to prove that 
Mr. Woolley hired a boy to set that barn on fire, and 
he also could prove that he had paid the boy's father 
one hundred dollars as, hush money. He also asked me 
— I don't know as he really asked me, but he said : ' I 
think you have a standing reward for such cases ; do 
you not ? ' 

" Said I, ' No, sir.' He then said to me that he was 
prepared to prove that Mr. Woolley hired a boy to set 
the barn on fire, and, if we would offer him a reward he 
would get our money back free of charge. He also said 
that it did not make any difference how small the reward 
was, even if it was only a dollar. 

" I told him that I couldn't offer any reward, and that 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 233 

I should not offer even one dollar reward ; that I didn't 
think there was anything in it. He said he^was satisfied 
it was a clear case and that there was two others with 
him that had been working up the case, and they were 
satisfied that they could prove that Mr. Woolley hired 
a boy to set the barn on fire ; and he went out. As I 
stated before, I declined to offer any reward, and he re- 
marked that Mr. Woolley was well off. I told him I 
supposed he was. I said I believed he had five or six 
hundred acres of land there, I didn't know much about 
his circumstances, and he intimated that Mr. Woolley 
would pay pretty well. 

" He wanted me to offer a reward, and I declined, 
he wanted melthen to go in with them — to take a fourth 
interest in what they could obtain from Mr. Woolley. 
I said to him then : If you attempt to exact money 
from Mr. Woolley, in that case, you will get yourself 
into difficulty. 

Mr. Seely testified that he took the same train for 
Columbus on which Elliott came from Westerville to 
the city. ■ Mr. Seely thus related a conversation that 
Elliott had with him on the train : 

" I had some conversation with him on the train ; he 
said to me, he wanted to know if I was going to stay in 
the city over night, I told him I didn't know but what 
I would ; he wanted to know where I woul4 stop ; I told 
him if I staid in the city I would stay at the United 
States Hotel. He said then that he would meet me there 
about eight o'clock. I told him that I had some busi- 
ness in the city, and if I got through, I had some 
business at or about Reynoldsburg. I didn't know 
whether I whould stay in the city or not." 

The cross-examination of Mr. Seely by Judge Rankin, 
the attorney for the defence, was exceedingly severe. 
In every way that this notorious cross-examiner could 
29 



234 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

invent, did he attempt the circumvention of the witness. 
He had listened with critical caution to the examination 
in chief, and the very clearness of it irritated him even 
more than the fact that it was evident to him that he 
had a desperate ' cause, , which must be won, if at 
all, by besieging witnesses and breaking down state- 
ments of those who testified. With surpassing inge- 
nuity, and with an earnestness born of that desperation, 
the attorney went in upon this first witness for the 
prosecution, with a sort of vengeance known only to 
the profession, when it sees itself the champion of so 
wretched a cause. He tried ;hard to make Mr. Seely 
show to the jury that he himself believed me a rascal, 
and having been somewhat stirred up about the matter 
by Elliott, proposed that night to go to my home 
and make matters right. As Mr. Seely said, he did 
come that very evening and saw me. As Mr. 
Seely was telling this, it was sought to make evidence 
that he had too good a memory about some certain 
facts, and too poor a memory about certain other facts, 
and that, therefore, he was not a good witness ; but this 
ended in complete failure. Mr. Seely proceeded to tell 
how he came to my house to inform me that a man by 
the name of Elliott had been to see him and had told 
him that story and that I ought to know it. But objec- 
tions were argued and speeches were made with such 
earnestness and at such length, that it was some time 
before he could make the following statement : 

" I went to Mr. Woolley's and said to him that there 
had been a gentleman to see me at Westerville and said 
his name was Elliott, that he was a stranger to me. 
And I described him to him, and I told him that he 
said that he was prepared to prove that he, Mr. 
Woolley, had hired this boy to set the barn on fire, 
and that there was two others of them that had been to 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 235 

work in the matter ; and I told him I didn't know what 
they proposed to do ; and I didn't know as they 
would do anything, but yet the substance, perhaps, 
was, whether it was better for him to pay the money 
over into our hands ; that I didn't know what was best 
for him to do. I told him that the money would be in 
safe hands and he said all right. That was the sub- 
stance of the conversation between Mr. Woolley and 
myself, as near as I can recollect." 

At this point, there was brought in the fact that J. 
A. McCoy, an adjuster of the company, had been to 
see Mr. Seely, and that Seely had said that there was 
some doubt as to one of his losses, meaning that on my 
barn. The effort of the attorneys for Elliott was a 
strong one to make out that McCoy, the adjuster, was 
recommending some course to be pursued against me. 
But it succeeded in bringing out this clear statement 
from Mr. Seely : 

* ' I don't think he was recommending on the part of 
Mr. Woolley. We were talking up some other matters, 
simply, and I had said to him that there was a case 
down in my territory that looked a little dark, ' but, ' 
said I, ' I don't know as there is anything in it ; ' said 
I : 'I don't think there is ; ' but he said : ' if there is, 
or you think there is, and the gentleman is willing to 
pay the money over into our hands, you receive it.' " 

And when he was asked about what information he 
had that I had been guilty of foul play, he made this 
very full and satisfactory answer : 

" Mr. Woolley came to meet me at Westerville, in 
the spring of 1879, and said to me that the barn that 
we paid for, as we supposed, was struck by lightning, 
or was set fire, as he supposed, by a boy that was liv- 
ing with him, and I said to Mr. Woolley, ' how did 
you ascertain that fact ? ' He said that the boy told 



236 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

some person, whose name he told me, but I don't recol- 
lect it — and that person told his wife ; that is the way 
the knowledge came to him ; and he said that he had 
taken the boy to raise, but he didn't know who was re- 
sponsible for his acts, and if the money did not belong 
to him he did not wish to retain it. And I said to him, 
' Mr. Woolley, if you had no information of that boy 
setting the barn on fire, or knowledge of it, in the least, 
and was not implicated in the matter whatever, you are 
entitled to the money, no matter if it were your own 
son that did it.' " 

When the attorneys pressed him to answer the ques- 
tion, why he told McCoy that there was something 
dark about this transaction, the prosecution made objec- 
tion which the Court sustained ; whereat the defence 
made exception, and so violently was the subject dis- 
cussed, that, to the chagrin of the defence, the Court 
informed them he would rule out all that was related 
by the witness as to the conversation between McCoy 
and himself. Then all that was left for the defence was 
to get him to say that he had some suspicions of his 
own as to my conduct in this matter, to all of which 
efforts he gave a decided negative. The questions and 
answers are so interesting that I give some of them as 
they occurred, transcribing from the stenographer's 
report: 

Q. Now, Mr. Seely, if you, to that moment, believed 
Mr. Woolley to be an innocent man, what interest had 
you in the matter in his paying over to your company 
any money ! 

A. I would say this : so far as my idea went with 
Mr. Woolley, that I took him to be a staightforward 
man, and after Mr. Elliott had stated what he did to 
me, and seeing that other man, I thought there was 
something wrong somewhere, but I didn't know where 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 237 

it was ; that was what prompted me to go out and see 
Mr. Woolley. In connection with the other, as I told 
you, I considered it my duty, as he had been to see me 
and always acted the part of a gentleman with us. 

Q. Didn't you say yesterday, upon your examina- 
tion, that, before Elliott was there, you had commu- 
nicated to a member of the company the fact that you 
believed there was something dark in a transaction in 
your territory, and it was the Woolley matter ? 

A. I didn't say, — but that man, I believed — 

Q. (Objected to, objection over-ruled. (Question 
repeated.) 

A No, sir ; I didn't say that I believed, ..and I didn't 
refer to any one — that is, I didn't give him any person's 
name ; I didn't tell him it was Mr. Woolley, or Mr. 
Roebeck r or anybody. 

Q. That may be good as far as it goes, it don't suit 
me. Didn't you say on your examination yesterday, 
that it was the Woolley matter you referred to, whether 
you communicated to him or not ? 

A. In my mind, yes, sir. 

Q; Now then, will you explain to this jury here, 
when that, impression was on your mind, and you ad- 
mitted that you communicated the fact that there was 
something dark in a transaction in your territory, will 
you explain to the jury, why you now swear that you, 
after seeing Mr. Wooley, thought and considered him a 
just and upright man ? 

Objected to. Question repeated. 

A. I say this : that after Mr. Elliott had been there 
to see me, and when I saw this other man, I didn't 
know but there was something wrong in the matter, 
and I was unable to tell, or make up my mind in the 
matter. 

Q. But didn't you say yesterday that you had in 



238 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF ^ 

your own mind marked out in your territory a dark 
transaction which related to Woolley? 

A. I don't know that I said it was a dark transac- 
tion. I think my idea was it appeared to my mind that 
there was something wrong somewhere. I don't think 
I used the word dark as he has it there. 

Q. Why did you say to McCoy that there was a 
dark transaction in your territory, without commu- 
nicating it to him as to who you thought it was ? 

A. I said to him, I thought there was a matter in 
my territory that there appeared to be something wrong 
with, but I didn't know that there was. 

In many ways, did the defence seek to break down 
Mr. Seely. Objections were interposed and argued, 
and exceptions almost innumerable were taken. The 
cautious eyes were meeting each other, and, if I had 
not been so personally involved in the whole proceed- 
ing, I would doubtless have taken still greater interest 
in the war which these men waged against one another. 
After the cross-examination closed, the State began the 
re-direct examination to strike no point of value but that 
was objected to, and to bring out no facts more impor- 
tant than those I have already detailed. 

The next witness called was Robert Snapp, who, on 
examination, said that he was acquainted with John 
Elliott. He had seen him one night about September 
3d, in company with Henry Alton. He lived on John 
Elliott's farm, and saw him when he was on his way 
going from 'Squire Norris's office in Prairie township. 
Elliott halloed and asked Alton if he had any hand- 
cuffs with him, and Alton said he had. Elliott obtained 
the loan of them. 

At this, of course, the defence again objected, but 
the Court over-ruled, and all that they could do was to 
accept the ruling. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 239 

Henry Alton, very properly the next witness, said he 
was constable at the time in Prairie township. He told 
substantialy the same story about the hand-cuffs, adding 
that Thomas Moore was with John Elliott when the latter 
returned the hand-cuffs, next morning-. 

The testimony of the next witness was the more per- 
sonally interesting because the next witness was myself. 
My name, residence, business were asked, and then 
I had to tell the story of that terrible night of Septem- 
ber 3d, 1879, an d of the meeting there with John 
Elliott. I shall transcribe the exact language I used 
before the court : 

" He came to my house about nine o'clock. I think 
the dog barked or something. I went out on the porch 
and three men came up. One of them had a paper in 
his hand, I believe, and touched me on the shoulder and 
said, ' You are my prisoner. ' Standing there on the 
porch he asked me if my name was Woolley. I told him 
it was. He said, 'you are my prisoner.' I think he 
said it was about burning the barn. 

" I went into the house and they followed me in and 
inquired something about it. It seemed as though they 
wanted me to go to Columbus or somewhere. I said, 
' gentlemen, if you have authority or a warrant, I have 
no objection at all ; you can arrest me and I will go 
with you. ' I went into my bed-room to put on my 
clothes. 

" I was just getting ready to go to bed. I went to 
put on better clothes and went into the bed-room. They 
followed me in and stuck right to me ; I couldn't get 
away from them at all. 

" There was so much said in the bed-room that I can't 
tell all that was said, but will tell all that I recollect. 
Sometime, while we were in there, somebody spoke 
about the warrant, and I think it was Fleming, who said 



240 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

he would read it to me ; I think it was he. He said, 
' come into this room and I will read it to you,' to the 
best of my recollection. 

• ' I went in and took a light and went back into the 
bath-room ; the door was open. I believe Elliott went 
along, and they read the warrant. 

" It purported to be a State warrant, issued by 
Squire Brown, calling for my arrest for hiring a boy to 
burn a barn. 

' ' After the warrant was read we went back into the 
room, and I continued dressing. 

''About the time I got through dressing, one 
of them pulled out what I supposed to be hand-cuffs, 
and turned them in this way (showing). My wife saw 
what it was, and my wife begged him not to put them 
on me. 

"Fleming said he was a deputy United States Mar- 
shal ; and the other said they were detectives. 

" I got my clothes on, and got ready to go, and we 
started, immediately, and went out into the lane. 

"Having gone out into the lane, there was a man 
sitting in the buggy. I didn't know who it was, 
only as I was told. I didn't know him, and Elliott told 
me to get into the buggy. 

" So I got in and then Elliott got in, also. We went 
up on the pike, and started in the direction toward 
Hilliard. 

" I was on the left side ; there was scarcely room to 
sit on the seat. He wanted to sit on my knee and I 
wouldn't allow him to do it. 

" I can't recollect what was said ; there wasn't much of 
importance until we got on the road. I think I asked 
them where they were going; I think they said Colum- 
bus. After we got on the road, Mr. Elliott said : ' Mr. 
Woolley, there need be nothing serious about this mat- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 241 

ter.' He added, ' You can have a chance to settle it.' 
Said he, ' We knew you was a man of considerable 
wealth, and respectability, and good standing in the 
community here ; we didn't want to come here and ar- 
rest you in the day-time and ruin your character ; so we 
thought we would come in the night, so as to give you 
a chance to get out of it. ' Well, I wanted to know 
what they meant, and I believe they said they had been 
to a good deal of expense and trouble, and they had 
been working at this thing for about a year, or nigh 
that ; they had been to a good deal of expense in hiring 
buggies, etc. , to get information, and that I could afford 
to pay them a thousand dollars. I just hooted at the 
idea and said, 'you don't get any money out of me.' 
About that time they took a drink of whiskey, or some- 
thing ; it smelled like it. 

" They drove on in the direction of Hilliard, and they 
kept driving very slow ; they let the horse walk the 
whole way to Dublin. 

" After we got started, they said they were going to 
take me to Dublin, and try me before 'Squire Tuller. 
I said ' all right. ' When they got to Hilliard they pre- 
tended not to know the way. I told them. I don't 
know whether they knew or not ; they had been drink- 
ing considerably. So they went on. I wanted to stop 
in Hilliard, but they would not allow me stop at all. It 
was considerably after nine o'clock when we got to Hil- 
liard ; we left home about nine o'clock and drove very 
slowly. 

" After we left Hilliard they kept talking with me all 
the time ; saying how much better it would be forme to 
pay the money and be discharged, and go to Brown and 
get discharged, and nobody would know anything about 
it; and said that that was the reason they went over 
there to get the warrant ; it would be so far that nobody 
30 



242 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

would know anything about it. It seemed they didn't 
want to injure my character, or want it known. 

" When we got on the other side of Hilliard, and they 
found they couldn't get a thousand dollars out of me, or 
any thing like that, they said they would take five hun- 
dred dollars, and said they would give me a letter. I utterly 
refused to give it, and said I was not guilty of anything, 
and hadn't anything to settle. Then they accused me 
of counterfeiting. I said, ' how's that, what have I 
been counterfeiting ? ' They said, ' You know.' I told 
them I didn't know anything about it. ' Well,' said he, 
' you needn't try to deny anything now, we have got the 
evidence ; your neighbors know it ; they went before 
the justice of peace and swore to it ; you needn't try to 
deny it now. ' 

" I tried to find out who it was — who my neighbors 
were around there, who went before the justice of the 
peace and swore that I had been counterfeiting, or any- 
thing of the kind, and they wouldn't give me any infor- 
mation. They said if I would give them five hundred 
dollars I would get a letter stating who ; that I had bet- 
ter get rid of such persons — so and so. 

'There will be no name signed to it; but you can 
take the hint though.' So they went on to Dublin. 

"When we arrived at Dublin, they stopped at a 
saloon. They got out and one went in, and when he 
came out, the other went in ; I suppose they were 
drinking. 

It must have been eleven o'clock ; it was fully that 
late. 

" In Dublin I saw Pearly Mosure. 

' ' They took him in the saloon, I believe. 

1 ' Fleming brought him and I saw him go into the 
saloon. 

1 ' They said they would prosecute me there, and 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 243 

talked with me there about settling ; that it would be 
much better to settle it. And I said take me down to 
Tuller's and try me ; and I said don't fool your time 
away here. I didn't want to stay there all night. I 
heard a good many things. 

"It seemed to me that it was a very long time that 
we were there ; I couldn't say how long. It seems to 
me it was an hour and a half or two hours. 

"We went from there home. While we were there 
I saw there was no way of getting away from them, and 
they didn't take me to Tuller's to try me, and finally 
wanted to know what I would give. I said, ' I have no 
money, but will tell you what I will do ; I have 
some notes' — but they had made that proposition be- 
fore. They said, ' Woolley, you are manufacturing tile 
and must have some notes from the people around.' 

"I said 'Yes.' And they said if I hadn't the 
money they would take the notes as security. 

" First they wanted to know if I couldn't borrow the 
money. I told them yes, I thought I could in the day 
time — the next day ; and they finally concluded they 
would take three hundred dollars, and go back to Jef- 
ferson, and no witness would appear against me there ; 
I would be discharged. When they first arrested me 
at my home, I supposed it was a genuine thing, and 
thought so until I got to Dublin ; and when they would 
not take me before Tuller, I supposed then there must 
be something wrong. I didn't know what to think of it. 

" When we started from Dublin we started to goto 
Jefferson ; we went by the way of home — where I lived 
— and went in there to get my horse and buggy. 

" Elliott came in the house with me and stuck right 
close to me all the time. They drank several times on 
the way from my house to Dublin ; they took a drink 
of whiskey some four or five times probably. 



244 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

" And then 1 had an object in going into my house 
to get my own horse and buggy. I came to the con- 
clusion about that time, that I had better get away from 
them, that I was in a dangerous crowd ; that is, judging 
from what I saw when I was in Dublin , one of them 
had a revolver. 

" He had it in his hand in front of him. 

" It was Moore ; he didn't make any threats or point 
it at me, or anything of the kind. 

" We stayed at my home a few minutes. 

" We went out to the barnyard to get my horse and 
hitch up. Elliott followed me everywhere I went. If 
I had had an opportunity I would have gotten away that 
night and at that time. And another object in getting 
my buggy was that they had an old horse, and pretty 
well played out ; I concluded if I got my buggy and 
horse I could drive off and leave them, but when I got 
in Elliott jumped in and said, ' I will ride with you ; ' 
and so I couldn't say anything. 

"He seemed to be pretty happy along the way and 
got to singing Methodist hymns. 

" It was just a little before daylight when we arrived 
at West Jefferson. 

" They said they would wake up Brown and get him 
up in his office, and they did so. 

*' When we were ready to proceed with the case I 
asked them if they were ready, and I told them then I 
would make a statement then of the case. They said it 
was of no use to make any statement, ' all you have to 
do is to say whether you are guilty or not guilty.' I 
said, ' I am not guilty.' ' Well,' they said, ' that is the 
end of it.' 

"Then the notes I had promised in security for the 
money I should give them, I should give them notes 
then, and went to do it. We went to the window, for 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 245 

Brown had some screens there, such as they have in sa- 
loons in front of the door. We went up to the window 
where there was a light, and I had a book of notes and 
expected to take out three hundred dollars of notes 
to give them as security ; but as I was looking over 
them Elliott said : ' You needn't tear any out, but we 
will take the whole of them ! ' and took them and put 
them into his pocket, making in all about eight hundred 
dollars of notes. 

" They were all on good men, at least the most of 
them. My purpose in giving the notes was, that I was 
satisfied they could not collect the notes and I was 
going to look into it and see about the matter. 

' ' They said they would go and have some breakfast. 
It was about day light. 

"They said I would have the costs to pay, and I 
asked them how much it was ; they went to figure up 
and they said it was twenty dollars and a few cents ; I 
gave Elliott a twenty dollar bill and they changed it and 
gave be back five dollars and I gave it to Brown and 
Brown took that. 

tl Brown claimed five dollars and twenty or thirty 
cents, something like that. 

" The fifteen dollars was divided around among them. 

" I saw them making change among themselves. 

" My horse was a little lame — his shoe was off. 

"So then I said I would have to get my horse shod, 
it was lame ; and I believe Elliott went with me around 
to the shop, and then left me at the shop and went and 
got breakfast. 

" I didn't take any breakfast at all ; they wanted me 
to take breakfast with them but I refused. 

"While I was there I saw them going to the tele- 
graph office pretty often and I heard Fleming say that 
they had some business down toward Columbus. 



246 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

" A very short time after they got done eating break- 
fast we left West Jefferson. 

" Elliott went with me. 

" I told them we would go to Evan Jones', I thought 
I could borrow the money of him. 

"My object was in going there, for I didn't know 
whether he had any money or not ; it would not have 
heen any trouble for me to raise a thousand dollars or 
two thousand dollars without going to Jones, for that 
matter — I only just went there as a blind. I didn't in- 
tend to pay them any money. 

"Jones lives down on a lane. When I got to Jones' 
I concluded they would stay for me outside and I would 
go in and get the money and they would remain out 
there, which they did, and said for me to be quick about 
it, and I said I would. 

1 ' I struck out then west. 

1 ' I left Elliott at the road which runs nearly east 
and west. I went south down a lane to the house ; 
when I got to the house I went down south toward 
Reese's — I think his name is — and I struck up west 
toward the creek. 

" When I left them, I concluded to go around home, 
and went over to the creek and started up the creek. 
I guess I went up the creek for a mile or three quarters 
and studied what I had better do, and finally came to 
the conclusion if I went home they might possibly over- 
take me and they would kill me, for, if this thing was 
not genuine, they had laid themselves liable, and the 
probability was they would kill me to get me out of the 
way ; so I sat down there and studied a while ; and I 
had some business at Indianapolis, had to go there any- 
how, in a short time, whether this thing had occurred 
or not, and I concluded while this thing was up I would 
go there anyhow, and hear from my family how this 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 247 

thing stood, and then would come back, and I did so. ' 

" I went to Mechanicsburgh and got on the train. 

" I remained in Indianapolis several days. 

" It was the next day that I sent word back, I sent 
a package ; I thought I would send it by express, and 
as I didn't have time to write a letter and go to the 
office to mail it, but would send a package, so they 
would know I was not murdered. 

" I remember that when on our way to Dublin, and 
I protested in giving any money at all, they said, with 
an oath to it : ' it is no use to try to get out of that, 
you have got to wear the stripes anyhow ; you know 
you burned the barn to get that $400 ; now there is no 
use for you to try to get out of it ; you have got to 
wear the stripes anyhow. ' 

" They were pressing me so hard for money, and 
threatened me that I would have to wear the stripes, 
and that I was a man abundantly able to give them 
plenty of money ; I had better give them a thousand 
dollars than go to the penitentiary. That was in burn- 
ing the barn, and they said that they could make more 
charges more serious than that. I said : ' What are 
they?' and they said: 'counterfeiting money.' I 
wanted to know to whom I had passed any such money 
and they would not give me names, but said 
I had passed it, and they had men who had 
gone to the Justice of Peace and testified to it and 
swore to it. I said : ' Are you quite sure that you 
have men that will swear to that ? ' They said : ' yes, 
we know what we are at ; we mean business, and we 
hardly undertake to do anything unless we know 
what we are at ; ' and I didn't know what to think 
of it." 

The cross-examination was all that might have been 
expected. Of course, the energies of the defence were 



248 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

focalized on me. It seemed as though every device was 
employed, that could be employed, to trip me up, and 
confuse me in my relation of the facts as they 
occurred. Mr. Rankin, who has an extraordinary repu- 
tation as a cross-examiner, though not a reputation such 
as lovers of truth would envy, conducted the ordeal, 
and by all his efforts and inventions to suppress the 
truth, advanced from point to point, expecting to carry 
consternation whither he went. I cannot understand 
how some assaults which are made perpetually in court- 
rooms upon the truth-telling tendencies of witnesses, 
can be allowed, where even the worst of men, let out 
of jail, or, it may be, covered with stripes, is said to be 
believed innocent until he is proved to be guilty. 
What is to be gained to good manners, justice, or truth 
by that systematic way too often allowed, by which a 
witness is questioned as though he were a murderer 
and he himself knew it, I do not quite see. I could 
have thought, and did think, that, in this case for which 
there was no shadow of foundation as against me, the 
desperate character of the cause, its utter lack of 
righteousness, and its complete poverty of probable 
truth to recommend it, demanded such insulting efforts, 
and suggested, if it did not necessitate, that bull-doz- 
ing style of inquiry. My reader may judge that the 
person who had been imposed upon as I had, as related 
by the testimony, had no relish for these methods. It 
seemed strange enough that that was a part of civiliza- 
tion. It seemed no stranger, however, than that, 
almost within sight of the capitol of Ohio, there should 
have been organized, set into motion, and operated, 
such a damnable scheme as that of which I had been 
the victim. I could have no such time for thought, as 
I have now, when those armed men, with the semblance 
of law and authority, dragged me through that dreadful 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 249 

night, the victim of their wretched schemes. As I look 
back upon it, as I write these notes, I find how perfectly 
unable any pen is to describe my feelings ; how futile it 
is to attempt the portrayal of of my pertubed soul. The 
testimony offered by myself in that trial could only 
relate to facts as they occurred in their boldest outward 
form and shape. No testimony that I shall be able to 
give on earth can, in any way, sound the depths of 
those inner facts, whose occurrence shall be re- 
membered only as unutterable. As it was then at- 
tempted to bandy me about by the forces of evil, in the 
defence of that man Elliott, the old feelings came again. 
I remembered the horror of that night, and the pain of 
spirit simply indescribable, with which its devilish de- 
tails went on. 

These feelings were trampled upon, it may have been 
in due process of law, but they were nevertheless out- 
raged by the methods of counsel on the other side, to 
whom a desperate case had suggested such abominable 
means. Not for my private sake, nor for any flush of 
individual victory, would I have dreamed of submitting 
to such a public rasping of my feelings, or to such a 
scene of studied insult as went on in that Court. But 
I thought, and think yet, that every man in some sense 
is his brother's keeper. I owed a duty to every citizen 
of my community to prove to them that the trust they 
had reposed in me so long had not been misplaced. I 
owed it to every man who, in poverty, had given me a 
hearty shake of the hand and encouraged me. I owed 
it to the fond mother who bore me. I owed it to that 
cloud of witnesses with whom Paul suggests we are each 
of us surrounded. I owed it to every citizen of Ohio to 
expose the direful wrong that had been organized in 
these breasts. I owed it to every citizen of the common- 
wealth to make the moral atmosphere purer by uniting 
31 



250 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

public indignation upon such fiends. I owed it to every 
human being, the earth around, to do my part toward 
the removal of such allies of hell to places where their 
revolting schemes would have to live only in their 
heaven-forsaken breasts, and where their frightful 
inroads upon the rights of men and society would be 
impossible. 

For these things, either of which had been enough 
to have made it a duty, I bore that distinguished 
effrontery and cunningly conceived persecution which 
marked the trial of these men. 

The first question asked by Judge Rankin was : 
"Mr. Woolley, you were inquired of a minute or two 
ago as to whether something was not said on your way 
to Dublin ; then you told us something about wearing 
the stripes and going to the penitentiary. How was it 
that you did not think of that this morning ? " That 
question illustrated, perhaps, the method which the 
defence was to use. It illustrated, perhaps, the fact 
that I did continually come to other facts in the story 
as that trial brought up afresh in my memory those 
terrible details. Any fair mind will know that no 
human being in the simple narration of that strangely 
involved and perplexing story could touch all the points. 
But of this the defence sought to make capital against 
me. As if, forsooth, that whole night wandering, 
under the guidance of armed desperadoes, those threats, 
those deep-laid schemes, the conversations, could be 
caught up from the frightened soul of their victim and 
suddenly be brought out from all that wild chaos of fear 
and suspicion and desire to escape them, and put into a 
thread of interesting romance ! Nothing could have 
been more silly than the idea. And yet, as I say, much 
was sought to be made out of the fact, that I had to 
gather the story of events from that dim and wild 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 251 

atmosphere of memory. Just as much capital against 
me would have been attempted to have been made, if, 
as they seemed to desire, I could have told the story as 
if it were dry and uninteresting, and not colored by all 
the mighty meanings which made that night hideous. 
But the trouble with this cause was that I told my story 
with perfect truth to the facts of that night, the feelings 
of my mind at the time, and with consistency to the 
several parts of it. 

Yet I could not tell that story — nor can my pen — 
as it grew with those feelings which the awful occur- 
rences of the night brought to me. My reader may 
judge how they were outraged, how my whole life and 
character was insulted, and how the defence tried to 
get me excited to madness in the early portion of the 
case where the following dialogue occurred before that 
jury, between the cross-questioner, Mr. Rankin, and 
myself: 

Q. Tell us something more that was said ? 

A. Yes, sir; I think of things occasionally. There 
is one little thing 

Q. Out with it ? 

A. Speaking. When I protested my innocence that I 
hadn't counterfeited any money or anything of the 
kind, he said, " it don't make a bit of difference, if we 
have the proof we will send you up anyhow." 

Q. Did you think at the time that was pretty nearly 
true ? 

A. No, sir; I knew it was not. 

I was then asked if I had been arrested for forging 
or counterfeiting, and that matter was pretty well 
ventilated, I have no doubt, for the purpose of making 
the jury believe that I was a desperado myself and that 
I was persecuting such saints as Elliott and Moore. I 
was then questioned closely, but only with the effect of 



252 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

being able to state truths unpleasant to the other side, 
concerning which of the three men entered my house 
first, and as to why I could not see who came in first 
when they were behind me. My acquaintance with 
Elliott was asked about, and capital was tried to be 
made against me because I did not know him until he 
told me as he entered the house who he was. Every 
action was inquired of. I was compelled to review the 
whole proceeding until the jury must have been tired of 
it. But it all seemed to fix the story in their minds 
favorable to the truth. 

The reader may obtain an idea of the line of 
defence when I give him a partial list of Judge Rankin's 
questions, wfyich were evidently prepared to make the 
jury think Mr. Elliott a very white-souled and much 
persecuted man. Of those referring to Squire Brown I 
shall have more to relate as I proceed with the story. 
Concerning the hand-cuffs, he asked : ' Didn't Mr. 
Elliott and Moore say right there to Fleming : " I would 
not put them on. I think he will go without them. 
There will be no resistance here.' " One of the other 
questions was : "Was it not announced then distinctly 
and honorably, within the hearing of everybody else 
around there, that they were going to have the 
witnesses while you were going to Dublin, and so you 
could have a hearing," to which I answered, "j/es." 
Another question was put in that self-assertive manner :< 
" Now, Mr. Woolley, I will ask you if you was not the 
first man, after Elliott and Moore had started to Dublin, 
to speak about money ? " He pressed the inquiry : 
4 ' I will ask you whether you did not make the proposi- 
tion ? " " Did not Mr. Moore say in reply to you, ' No, 
sir; we don't want a cent of your money or property ; 
we expect to get our compensation from another 
quarter* " He asked also if when I saw Pearly Mosure 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 253 

I did not say to him: " Well, Pearly, I suppose you 
have told these men all about this burning business? " 
to which I answered " no." After I said no to this the 
following sharp colloquy occurred : 

Q. And he said " yes, I have told them all about it " ? 

A. No, sir ; I didn't speak to the boy that night. 

Q. I will ask you whether Mr. Fleming then after 
they had got there a little bit and had young Mosure 
there, whether he didn't start off (Fleming) to walk up 
to 'Squire Tuller's ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. He didn't? 

A. No, sir ; not that I know of. 

Q. I will ask you whether you don't know it, and 
asked Mr. Elliott to call him back ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. And whether you didn't give as a reason that you 
didn't want a trial in your own neighborhood and to get 
into the papers of this county, and that you preferred 
to go before 'Squire Brown where the warrant was 
issued, as it would not become so public ? 

A. No, sir; I didn't say anything of the kind. 

Q. Was Pearly Mosure taken before 'Squire Brown 
in West Jefferson ? 

A. I didn't see anything of him there. 

Q. Do you know why ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. I will ask you whether you didn't tell those men 
that it was not necessary to take Pearly there, that you 
would either plead guilty or waive examination and be 
bound over ? 

A. No, sir ; I didn't say anything of the kind. 

The attorney, on the other side, Mr. Rankin, tried 
to make something out of the fact that when I was in 
West Jefferson I had opportunity to have obtained justice 



254 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

elsewhere than at the 'Squires, and that I might have 
made my escape. This was the testimony : 

Q. I will ask you, when you were dismissed by the 
'Squire, whether you went away anywhere ? 

A. Yes, I went to get my horse shod. 

Q. Why didn't you go where you pleased, or did you 
go where you pleased, to get your horse shod ? 

A. Elliott went with me and showed me where the 
shop was. 

Q. Did he go with you where you took your horse 
to be shod ? 

A. He showed me where the shop was. 

Q. Wasn't that before you took your horse there ? 

A. I am not sure of that. 

Q. And if he didn't, go there with you before you 
took your horse there and neither of them or either of 
these men went with you when you took your horse 
there ? 

A. He wasn't with me at the shop when I got him 
shod. 

Q. Wasn't you at liberty to go where you pleased 
when you were at 'Squire Brown's? 

A. I didn't know anything about that; they kept 
pretty close to me, I noticed. 

Q. How far is the blacksmith shop from 'Squire 
Brown's ? 

A. Not very far. 

Q. How far ? 

A. From 5 to 15 rods. 

Q. Isn't it several squares ? 

A. It is probably two squares ; not further than that. 

Q. How long was that smith putting on the shoe ? 

A. I don't know how long it was ; just one shoe. 

Q. Did he make the shoe ? 

A. He put an old one on he had there. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 255 

Q. Just nothing but that ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Now, when that was done did you attempt to go 
home ? 

A. I went to the office of Brown. 

Q. Did you attempt to go home ; was there any 
restraint upon you ; was there anybody there to prevent 
you from going where you pleased ? 

A. No, sir, I didn't try to go home, because I knew 
it would be no use. 

Q. What was you afraid of? 

A. I had given them some notes until I got some 
money for them, and they seemed to want to stay by 
me until I got that money ; they stayed with me all the 
time until I got back. 

Q. Didn't you say you were at the blacksmith's ? 

A. Yes, sir ; but as soon as I got back from the 
blacksmith shop they stayed with me right along till I 
got to Jones'. 

Q. When these notes, amounting to seven or eight 
hundred dollars were grabbled Out of your hands and 
taken possesssion of by Mr. Elliott, and against your 
consent, you was in the presence of a public officer — in 
the presence of Brown, Justice of the Peace, did you 
make any complaint to him that your property had 
been taken from you against your will ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Why didn't you ? 

A. I had no confidence in the man at all. 

Q. Do you know 'Squire Brown ? 

A. I am not acquainted with him ; I have heard of 
him. 

Q. He discharged you that morning, didn't he ? 

A. Why, he pretended to. 

Q. He told you that you was discharged, didn't he ? 



256 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

A. He told me so. 

Q. Then you did go ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Now, you say there was a high-handed wrong 
there upon you, and you didn't complain to the Justice 
of the Peace that stood within a few feet of you ? 

A. No, sir, I didn't say anything to him at all. 

Q. Did you know whether there was a Mayor or not ? 

A. I asked 'Squire Brown if there was a lawyer 
there, and he said, "no; not to amount to anything. " 

Q. Was there a Mayor? 

A. I didn't say anything about that. 

Q. Was there a Marshal there ? 

A. I didn't inquire. 

Q. Nobody there in particular for you to complain to ? 

A. No, sir ; I didn't say anything about it ; I was 
very well satisfied that the notes would not be any use 
in their hands ; I didn't think they could collect them. 

O. Why didn't you just quietly go home, or go to 
town, when they were not disturbing you, and take 
steps to recover your notes ? 

A. I concluded to do that at the proper time. 

It was sought to make capital out of the fact of my 
leaving and going to Indianapolis. That dreary route 
was traveled over again for that jury and to answer the 
question of counsel. It was broken by questions such 
as this : " Did you not go away and leave for Indian- 
apolis, not because you had business there, but because 
you feared arrest from another quarter"? I answered, 
after being interrupted by other questions, with a 
decided No, and desired to explain my feelings and 
what prompted me to that course. Yet that was not 
the place, and since no pen can describe them I leave 
these to the thoughts of my reader. 

On the re-direct examination, I had opportunity to 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 257 

make the following explanation of the whole accusation, 
as to counterfeiting : 

"In 1855, while at Henderson County, Kentucky — 
the Southern Bank of Kentucky is located at Hender- 
son, in the south part of Kentucky — while in the year 
1855, or near that, I was making photographs, and I 
had heard that money might be counterfeited. I went 
to the bank — the cashier — and got a $20 bill and set it 
up before the camera and took a picture of it and put 
it on paper and took it to the bank, and asked them 
what they thought of it, and they said it was pretty 
good, and wanted to know all about it, and asked me a 
good many questions about it, and 1 showed him how to 
detect it. I says, ' you take cyanide of potassium, it 
will take the color out ; if one of your bills is genuine, 
it will not do it. Take a weak solution of cyanide of 
potassium and it will take the whole color out. It is 
the easiest thing to judge it in the world, and I thought 
you ought to know it, and I made one to show what the 
thing would do. ' The State Fair was held at Kentucky 
at that time, and I was awarded the first premium on 
my photographs and a good deal was said about my 
fine photographic work, and also how nicely money 
could be detected in that way. A short time after that, 
the bank had the books and all their notes colored so it 
could not be counterfeited. Merchants there wanted 
the bill to see if they could pass it or not. All of them 
had it there for a few days, and one of them said some 
of them would take it and some wouldn't. I have told 
several of my friends here in this county and different 
places, that I had done that thing in Henderson, 
without any intention that the bill should go out at all." 

Oran Clover was the next witness. He had lived 
forty-two years in Norwich Township ; he said he had 
known John Elliott for twenty-five years ; he saw him 
32 



258 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

on or about the third of September, in Alton, while he 
(Elliott) was standing in a saloon door; Elliott came 
and asked him if he had seen Woolley ; he said they 
had arrested him the night before for burning his own 
barn ; he said they took him to West Jefferson and 
settled the matter. Clover then went on to testify 
concerning what Elliott said about the notes. Elliott 
said, "We have got $180 or $190; in the settlement 
we are to have $300 more." Elliott then said to Clover 
that Woolley had given him $700 of notes to hold in 
the place of the $300 to be paid. Clover went on to 
say: "He put his foot on the hub of the buggy and 
said, 4 these are the notes ;' it was a note book, a black, 
cloudy book." Elliott told Clover, "If Woolley don't 
come with the money by sunset, or six o'clock in the 
evening, I will make my money out of the notes." Mr. 
Clover saw Moore that day standing in Elliott's door, 
and he saw Flemming drive up, with his horse very 
much abused by fast driving. 

The cross-examiner immediately saw that this was 
dangerous evidence for them, and tried to confuse the 
witness as to times and places and as to the recollection 
of words uttered. The whole geography of the scenes 
described was exhaustively inquired of. Every particu- 
lar thing was dilligently asked about, but the cross- 
examination yielded them nothing. 

Samuel Hunter was the next witness. In September, 
1879, he was living in Dublin, Franklin county; he had 
known John Elliott twenty-five years, quite well ; on 
the night when it was said Mr. Woolley was taken from 
the neighborhood he saw John Elliott at Cook's saloon, 
at Dublin; it was in the night; he did not know 
exactly what time it was ; he had been asleep and 
awoke up ; he judged it was about twelve o'clock ; in 
the crowd that he saw there were Flemming and Elliott 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 259 

and Moore and a person whom he supposed to be Mr. 
Woolley. I heard Moore say that he had "Mr. 
Woolley " and the boy ; this boy was Mosure's boy. 
Flemming and the rest of the party talked so loudly 
that it woke him up ; he couldn't hear all that was said ; 
he opened the door between where he was in the room 
five or six inches wide, and listened as close as he could ; 
he heard Elliott say in the presence of Mr. Woolley, 
"Charley, come back here," twice; " O, Charley, 
come back here. " He was alluding to Charley Flem- 
ming ; Charley Flemming had started to go ; he said he 
would go and wake 'Squire Tuller up ; Elliott called 
him back and said, " Charley, come back here, I guess 
we can fix that up." This crowd was there about one 
hour ; there were two vehicles. Mr. Hunter thought 
Flemming was intoxicated. He heard Moore say that 
he had got " Woolley." On the cross-examination no 
such heavy attempt was made to confuse this witness as 
had been made with the others. Mr. Rankin asked 
him if he might not be jumping at conclusions, to 
which the witness answered, " Mr. Elliott called him to 
come back." Mr. Rankin then asked, "Isn't it possi- 
ble in a night, when you couldn't see him, and at about 
200 feet at best, that he might have arrived at 'Squire 
Tuller's residence and made a knock or two?" "Yes, 
sir," said the witness. " Why did you say that you 
didn't believe it, then?" The witness answered, 
" Well, I don't believe it yet ; I didn't hear that knock- 
ing." "Why did you volunteer that you didn't hear it, 
and don't believe it yet " ? The witness answered, 
" Because I heard him answer." 

George Hann was then called. He lived at West 
Jefferson ; about the third of September he saw John 
Elliott at his (Hann's) meat store ; he was constable 
and marshal ; Elliott and Moore came to his store 



260 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

together ; Moore spoke first and wanted to know where 
Brown was ; 'Squire Brown was sitting there, and he 
and Moore and Elliott went out and talked. To use 
the witness' own words he testified as follows : ' ' After 
Mr. Moore and 'Squire Brown went out, I believe 
I asked Elliott what was up, or something as to 
whether he was after somebody. He said they were. 
He asked me if I sat up late,*he said he might want to 
put a man in jail ; I told him I would get up ; it was 
after dark ; I saw Fleming the next day ; I saw him 
early in the morning at Grizley's saloon, and pretty 
drunk, with a very muddy buggy there ; I saw nobody 
with him ; it was about sunrise ; it was the night 
before Woolley was reported as mysteriously disap- 
pearing." There was no cross-examination. 

The next witness was J. M. Johnson. He said that 
his business was that of a tile-maker, and that he was 
living on the farm of S. J. Woolley; he said he recol- 
lected the night that Mr. Woolley was taken from home ; 
it was the second day after he was taken that he saw 
Elliott and Moore ; it was at Moore's place of business 
on Broadway at Columbus ; they were both together at 
that time ; Elliott said that he had some notes in his pos- 
session belonging to Mr. Wooley ; he said he took them 
as security for some money that Mr. Woolley was to pay 
him ; Moore said for him (Johnson) to go down about 
the Penitentiary to meet Mr. Woolley, that they wanted 
to get hold of him before the others did ; Elliott 
pointed out some men to Johnson and said that they 
were looking for Woolley. One was Mosure and one 
was Dan Flemming. Elliott had said that Woolley 
had promised to pay him $300. He said if Woolley 
attempted to play any game on him he had more notes 
than he had promised to pay him money. 

When Johnson asked him why Woolley gave him 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 2 6l 

the notes, he said they had arrested Mr. Woolley and 
they had a case against him, and they gave him to 
understand that it was best for him to pay them some 
money. He saw Moore and Flemming the same day 
in the afternoon at Mr. Woolley's house. Mr. Woolley's 
horse was returned home that second day. Mrs. 
Woolley requested Johnson to go and see where Mr. 
Woolley was ; that she understood the evening before 
he was in the neighborhood and didn't come home, and 
the next morning she thought it was strange that he 
was so near and didn't come home. 

Judge Rankin conducted another earnest examination, 
which was as long as it was useless to the other side. 
The times of his arrival, the times of his leaving one 
place and coming to another, the way that he went, the 
mode of his journey, the recollection of his conversation, 
the whys and wherefores of every step — all these were 
thoroughly recanvassed. 

A short re-direct examination followed, then a 
re-cross-examination, and the witness was excused. 

The next witness made for herself a name not to be 
forgotten in the memory of all present. Perhaps the 
tenderness of her relation to the family, the earnestness 
of her devotion to the severe truth in this as in other 
instances, the fact tnat all these were, as it were, trod 
upon by the operation of the fearful conspiracy, made 
her testimony a thrilling episode in the trial. It was 
my niece, Miss Emma Woolley. She testified to the 
same terrible facts with the glow of her nature. She 
recited detail after detail. As a woman's character is 
all the more open to impressions, somewhat different 
from the soul of a man, so was her story the gethering 
together of those peculiar facts which would fasten 
themselves upon her attention. She said, ''When 
they came into the house my uncle, Mr. Woolley said, 



262 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

1 get my clothes, I have got to go to Columbus with 
these men.' She said, 'Why what is the matter.' 
He answered, ' Why, I suppose they have arrested me ; 
I suppose it is on that barn burning that has been 
reported around.' " 

There were several such passages as this in her testi- 
mony, which showed not only the unaffected truthful- 
ness of her story, but that she, in her loyalty, caught 
phases of the tale which a man would have forgotten. 
She said, " My uncle started toward the door and he 
said, 'Come on, I am ready,' and we put our arms 
around him and kissed him, and they took him and 
started. I saw him the next morning at two o'clock ; 
Elliott came with him to the bedroom door ; nothing 
was said that I heard ; the clock struck two just as they 
came in. It wasn't more than a minute or two." 

There was no cross-examination. That simple story, 
so affectionately told, would have turned the edges of 
whatever lances might have been hurled against it. 

The next witness was my wife. She told, in her way, 
the same story. It was not colored from the truth, but 
made all the more truthful because an affectionate wife 
related the operation of a disgraceful conspiracy directed 
against her husband, as it occurred before her eyes. 
Now and then in the midst of the testimony, there 
would shoot forth fires which must have been kindled 
into flaming indignation, when those desperadoes, in 
their mock of law and authority, entered that quiet 
home. There was no explosive anger ; there was no 
foolish sentamentalism ; there was nothing flippant, 
nothing silly, everything was dignified. It was the 
composure of a noble hatred of such baseness and of 
such men which was behind every word. If now and 
then there was a tremuiousness of voice, it was because 
the voice was not able to bare the weight and burden 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 263 

of indignant scorn. Let my reader imagine her feelings. 
A quiet home, where books and pleasant conversation 
ruled the hours of rest, invaded by men, the despera- 
tion of whose eyes, the irresponsible wickedness of 
whose hearts, the black infamy of whose characters 
and the apparent seriousness of whose mein would 
astonish a prison or thrill with new instincts of crime 
the occupants of a penitentiary. This woman knew my 
life had been a struggle for what I thought was right 
and that our mutual care had at last ripened into our 
innocent home. Then to have such men enter with 
the idea of fastening a crime upon her husband in such 
manner as this, was enough to have made reason 
stagger on her throne. It was no wonder that she 
earnestly spoke in tones of love for me and deep indig- 
nation toward them, when the handcuffs were produced, 
begging, "You won't put them on, now promise me 
you won't put them on him." It was not strange to 
me, who knew her moral force and calmness, that when 
in the court room she was asked these questions, her 
emotion was evident and yet so thoroughly under 
control, that not one sentimentalism occurred. The 
story itself was marvelously straight, clear and precise, 
and to its bold consistency and remarkable fidelity to 
the story as already told by others. No cross-examina- 
tion was attempted. 

Mr. Clover was recalled. I was asked one question. 
Mr. Clover was recalled again. Mr. James M. Johnson 
was recalled, then the plaintiff rested. 

The testimony for the defence opened amidst the 
wonder of all in the court room, except the criminals 
and their attorneys. This wonder was, by what possi- 
ble method there could be any defence. As the 
defence, like a wounded serpent, ' ' dragged its slow 
length along," its character and method were clearly 



264 Life, recollections and opinions of 

seen. Very naturally the first witness was T. D. 
Brown, the Justice of the Peace before whom the farce 
of the trial was acted. 

In the examination of 'Squire Brown, Judge Rankin 
asked him to tell the jury what took place concerning 
the warrant. After some wordy delays concerning the 
matter, and various efforts on the part of the defence to 
avoid the issue, the Court said : "If the warrant is in 
existence it should be brought in." Brown said that no 
trial was had before him, because he had no jurisdiction 
in the case. He said Mr. Woolley requested to be 
sworn to make a statement, and ' ' I swore him and he 
made a statement." Brown was then asked: "You 
say you dismissed the case, and discharged him on the 
ground that you had no jurisdiction in the matter?" 
To which he answered: "Yes, sir." The Court 
detected the effort at impeachment, and informed Mr. 
Rankin that the question he was asking was not a good 
one for the purpose. Mr. Brown was asked: "Tell 
the Court what Mr. Woolley said to you, and what you 
said to him, on the subject of being arrested by the 
Mosure's, whether he consulted about their liability 
about what had taken place before you ? " To which he 
answered: "After we got up stairs he asked me if 
Mosure and his son could arrest him after his making 
this sworn statement. I told him certainly they could, 
that wouldn't hinder them from having hjm arrested. I 
told him if he was afraid of arrest by them he had better 
get Moore and Elliott and Fleming to watch them 
fellows a little for him, and see what they were going 
to do." 

The cross-examination was so pertinent that I tran- 
scribe the most of it from the printed testimony as filed 
in the court. 

Cross-Examination. — Examined by Mr. Outhwaite. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 265 

Q. Upon what principle did you recommend him to 
get Moore and Fleming- and Elliott to watch them 
fellows, Mr. Brown ? 

A. I thought they were all friends of his, they 
appeared to be there in the office — all friends. 

Q. You thought they were all friends of his ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. They appeared to be good friends ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. How long had you known Mr. Elliott, Mr. 
Brown ? 

A. Well, sir, I couldn't tell you. 

Q. Well, about how long, 20 years ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. How long have you lived in West Jefferson? 

A. About 16 years. 

Q. Well, 16 years? 

A. I have been personally acquainted with him about 
6 or 7 years. 

Q. 7 years. 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Wasn't this the statement you made him : that 
he had better pay Mr. Fleming and Mr. Elliott and Mr. 
Moore some money to watch them fellows ? 

A. I made the statement that he had better get them 
to watch them fellows if he had to pay them some 
money. 

Q. If he had to pay them some money? 

A. Yes, sir, if he had to pay them some money. 

Q. Where were you at the last term of this court 
when this case was called ? 

A. I don't know, sir. Which time do you mean ? 

Q. I mean in February. 

A. Well, I couldn't tell you. 

Q. You couldn't tell ? 
33 



266 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

A. I don't know what day it was called. 

Q. You don't know just what day it was called ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Where did you start for just after you learned it 
was set for trial ? 

A. I never knowed it was set for trial, sir. 

Q. You didn't? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Don't you know you left the county in which you 
lived and got out of it at about the time this case was 
set for trial at the last term ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Do you know when the last term of this court 
began ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Didn't you leave and get away at the time this 
case was set for trial ? 

A. Well, I went away, but I didn't know when the 
case was set, I told you. 

This is not a specimen, but only a mild beginning of 
that searching cross-examination which was made. It 
was exceedingly interesting to notice how a Justice of 
the Peace who had served twelve years, suddenly found 
out that he had no jurisdiction in this case, even after 
he had issued the warrant. A very interesting portion 
of the cross-examination was that as to his whereabouts 
February 25th, as to what he was doing at Jamestown 
and Xenia when the trial was first on hand. It was 
interesting, also, to hear the account he was made to 
give of a visit to Indiana. He said he left on election 
day ; that he was at home in the morning, when he 
received a subpoena to the trial. When he was attacked 
again concerning the subject of jurisdiction, the follow- 
ing colloquy occurred. I transcribe from the steno- 
grapher's notes. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 267 

Q. How long did you say you had been a Justice of 
the Peace ? 

A. 12 years. 

Q. Now, tell the jury how you learned, after 12 years' 
service, within 12 hours, that you had jurisdiction over 
this case ? 

A. Well, I made the warrant returnable to the Justice 
of the proper — the Justice of the proper county. 

Q. What county was that ? 

A. Madison county. 

Q. You made it returnable to Madison county ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. You said you did. 

A. To the Justice of the Peace of the proper county 
where Mr. Woolley resided, in Franklin county. 

Q. Well, go on with your explanation ? 

A. I found that I had no jurisdiction over Mr. 
Woolley. 

Q. Why? 

A. When they brought him back there he wasn't in 
my county. 

Q. Did it take you 12 years' service on the bench of 
Justice of the Peace for you to find out you had no 
jurisdiction over a man living in Franklin county? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Did you know it at the time you issued that war- 
rant, that you had no jurisdiction over a man for a crime 
committed in Franklin county ? 

A. I didn't understand when they made the affidavit, 
I didn't understand where this man lived. I never 
knew Mr. Woolley ? 

Q. Didn't you say a minute ago you issued your war- 
rant to Franklin county, to any constable in Franklin 
county. 

A. Yes, sir. 



268 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Q. Returnable before a Justice of the Peace in 
Franklin county for an offence committed in Franklin 
county ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

K. Well, now then, explain to the jury how it is you, 
with 12 years' experience as a Justice of the Peace, 
should learn in less than 12 hours what you failed to 
learn in 12 years? 

A. I stated before that I issued the warrant, thinking 
he was a man that was trying to get away. 

Q. Does that confer jurisdiction on you ? 

A. Well, I thought it did. 

Q. You didn't learn in 12 years that you had no 
jurisdiction over a man living in another county for a 
crime committed in another county? 

A. Yes, sir, I have. 

Q. How did you learn this very important fact in a 
few minutes after you had issued the warrant ? 

A. Well, sir, I learned it by finding out the constable 
couldn't make any return to me. 

Q. What constable? 

A. Mr. Fleming. 

Q. Was he a constable in your jurisdiction ? 

A. He claimed to be a constable. 

Q. I didn't ask you what he claimed, sir ? 

A. No sir, he was no constable in my county. 

(It was agreed between counsel for the State and 
defence, that what Fleming claimed to be, should be 
striken out.) 

Q. Why did you make that returnable to Franklin 
county ? 

A. Because I thought that was the place for him to 
be tried. 

Q. Why did you think it was the proper place for 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 269 

him to be tried — because the crime was committed in 
Franklin county ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Why did you issue the warrant and take jurisdic- 
tion of the case in Franklin county ? 

A. I didn't. 

Q. Didn't you take jurisdiction when you issued the 
warrant ? 

A. I took jurisdiction when they made the affidavit 
and issued the warrant under the affidavit. They said 
that this man was a man that was trying to get away 
from the clutch of the law. 

Q. You thought that these men had come from 
Franklin County over to West Jefferson for the purpose 
of getting out a warrant to catch a man that was fleeing 
from the law in Franklin county ? 

A. I did. 

Q. You did. 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. You are still a Justice of the Peace in Madison 
county ? 

A. No, sir, not now. 

Q. What was the reason you didn't bring the papers 
in this case with you ? 

A. I didn't know that they were necessary, I didn't 
have any notice to bring them. 

Q. Have you got any record of it ? 

A. Nothing only just what I had written on the war- 
rant or affidavit. The statement that he made me. 
I wrote it on the warrant and affidavit. 

Q. Also the fact that you dismissed him for the want 
of jurisdiction? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Don't you make record of cases whether you dis- 
miss for want of jurisdiction? 



270 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

A. I didn't make any record of the case at all. 

Q. I asked you if you didn't make a record, and if the 
law don't require you to make a record of every case 
brought before you ? 
, A. Yes, sir, in my county. 

Q. Now, tell the Jury why you violated the law? 

(Objected to, objection overruled, exception taken 
by the defence.) 

Q. Did you ever have a case brought before you out 
of your county before? 

A. Not until this one happened to me. 

Q. Answer my question. 

A. No, sir. 

Q. What is bringing a case before you, according to 
your idea ? 

A. Filing a bill of particulars and making an affida- 
vit, &c. 

Q. And here was a case, according to your statement 
now, in which an affidavit was filed and the case brought 
before you in your county, now tell the Jury why you 
didn't make a record of it ? 

A. Simply because I had no jurisdiction in the matter. 

Q. I will ask you if the law does not require you, if 
you didn't know the law required you to make a record 
of your proceedings in cases in which you dismiss for 
want of jurisdiction as well as any other cases ? 

(Objected to.) 

Q. Do you mean to say — I don't care what you think 
now, but at the time you dismissed this case, that you 
thought that the law didn't require you to make a record 
of cases which you had dismissed for-the want of juris- 
diction ? 

A. I thought the law wouldn't require me. 

Question repeated. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 27I 

A. Well, I considered that I had no right to make 
any record of this case. 

Q. That is not an answer to my question, I will have 
an answer to my question, if you please. 

Question repeated. 

A. Well, I didn't know; I didn't hardly know about it. 

Q. Do you know a book called Swan's Treatise ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. How many years have you had it in your office ? 

A. I have had one most of the time. 

Q. What does that require in regard to the fact of 
entries ? 

The Court : I don't think that this is proper. 

Mr. Outhwaite : 

Q. At the time, you knew that the commencement 
of a case in a criminal action was the filing of an affidavit ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. This case was commenced in that way? 

A. Yes, sir, 

Q. And a few minutes afterwards you learned that 
you had no jurisdiction ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. How did you learn that ? 

A. I told you because he was a resident of Franklin 
County. 

C. When did you learn that ? 

A. Right away. 

Q. Did you learn that before you issned your war- 
rant — didn't you learn that from the affidavit itself? 

A. I didn't know where Mr. Woolley lived when I 
made it, but I learned afterward where he lived. 

Q. Why did you make it returnable in Franklin 
county ? 

A. Wait till I get through if you please. 

Q. Yes, sir. 



272 LTFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

A. And they made the affidavit and then when I 
made the warrant I made it returnable to the proper 
officer of the county where he lived. 

Q. Why didn't you stop there? 

A. I thought I had a right to issue a warrant of that 
kind. 

O. You thought you had a right ? 

A. Yes, sir, and I thought this man Woolley was 
trying to get away from justice. 

Q. You thought that he was in Franklin county ? 

A. No, sir, I thought that he was trying to get 
away. 

Q. Why did you issue a warrant to the county ? 

A. Returnable to Franklin county if they got him. 

Q. Didn't you issue to any Constable in Franklin 
county ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Why did you issue to a constable in Franklin 
county ? 

A. The constable claimed to be from Franklin 
county. 

Q. Had you ever read this in Swan's Treatise : "The 
criminal docket must be a good and substantial blank 
book in which must be entered all proceedings on any 
complaint for a violation of the criminal laws of the 
State." Had you ever read that? 

A. I expect I have. 

Q. Your practice gave you an opportunity to look at 
that more than once, didn't it ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Don't all proceedings include the filing of an affi- 
davit ? 

A. Whenever we enter the case on the docket it does. 

Q. Doesn't all proceedings include the issuing of a 
warrant and to whom issued ? 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 273 

A. I didn't consider this a case at all. 

Q. About proceedings now: Don't all proceedings in- 
clude that? 

A. Yes, sir, where a person has jurisdiction. 

Q. What do you call the jurisdiction? 

A. Jurisdiction of the case. 

Q. What is jurisdiction ? 

A. When the parties live in the county where he is 
stopped from fleeing from justice. 

Q. How far did you have to go in the case according 
to your understanding of the law before you took juris- 
diction? 

A. No reply. 

Q. You went so far as to issue a warrant, take an 
affidavit first, and issue a warrant, and hear the statement 
of the witness, and discharge him for the want of juris- 
diction, and perhaps collect your fees, how was it ? 

A. No, sir, it was his request to make that statement. 

Objection made to the question and answer, objec- 
tion sustained, exception taken by the State. 

Q. You took the statement of Mr. Woolley? 

A. Yes, sir. I told him before he made his state- 
ment that I hadn't no jurisdiction in the matter and that 
I couldn't try it, and he wanted to make a sworn state- 
ment before me, and I swore him and took his state- 
ment. 

Q. That statement was made after he was dismissed, 
was it ? 

A. Yes, sir. I told him when he came into the office 
that I hadn't any jurisdiction in the matter, and that I 
couldn't try the case. 

Q. And that statement was made then after you had 
discharged him because he was not guilty of any crime 
known to the laws of the State of Ohio ? 

A. I hadn't any right to hold him. 
34 



274 

Q. You didn't discharge him because he wasn't guilty 
of any crime known to the State of Ohio, but because 
you didn't have jurisdiction? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. You didn't enter upon those papers over in your 
office that he was not guilty of any crime known to the 
State of Ohio, but you discharged him for the want of 
jurisdiction, how is that sir ? 

A. I told him that I had no jurisdiction. 

Question repeated. 

A. I discharged him for the want of jurisdiction. 

Q. The first part of the question : Did you enter upon 
those papers or in your docket that ? 

A. No, sir ; I understand it now. 

Q. Oh, yes, sir. 

A. One statement that Mr. Woolley made to me. 

Q. Tell the jury what you entered upon the book of 
those papers, if you made any? 

A. Well, sir, I don't believe I can do it. 

Q. How soon did you make up your entries ? 

A. I made them partly right when Mr. Woolley was 
in the office. 

Q. Where are they now ? 

A. They are at my house. 

Q. At your house. 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Did you ever make a copy of those papers for 
anybody ? 

A. I did, sir. 

Q. You made a true copy, of course? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. I will ask you if you know anything about those 
two papers (showing him papers) ; is that your hand- 
writing at the bottom of those papers ? 

A. Yes, sir. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 275 

Q. Turn them over and see whether it is your hand- 
writing and signature ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. It is? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q, I will ask you what was the amount of your fees 
in that case ? 

A. Three or four dollars. 

Q. They were paid at the time ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. And were true copies made at the time of them, 
September 16th, — copies at the time ? 

A. I didn't read them over ; 1 made true copies of 
them — true copies at the time. 

Q. These were the notes that you made at that time? 

A. They are in my hand-writing ; that is my signa- 
ture — I think it is. I wrote that in pencil; that may 
be changed, probably. I don't know anything about it. 

Q. You have several times stated that that examina- 
tion was made at the request of Mr. Woolley ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. You haven't said at any time that the prosecuting 
witnesses joined in that request, have you ? 

A. I couldn't tell without seeing my answers. 

Q. Can't you tell the jury how it is that Woolley 
made the request, but don't recollect that the prose- 
cuting witnesses didn't make no such request, as a mere 
matter of memory ? 

A. I believe the parties, Mr. Moore or him, did re- 
quest. Mr. Woolley wanted to be sworn and make a 
statement ; I think Mr. Moore done that, too. 

Q. How does this sound (counsel commenced read- 
ing from the paper) ? 

(Objected to.) 

The Court : Do you offer that as testimony ? 



276 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Mr. Outhwaite: Not yet. 

The Court: I guess you hadn't better read it. 

Mr. Outhwaite: 

Q. You still say you have no jurisdiction ? 

A. That is what I said. 

Q.* That is the reason you didn't examine into the 
complaint at all, is it ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Do you recollect of meeting a man by the name 
of Cromwell about the third day after the trial of Mr. 
Woolley at your office in West Jefferson ? 

A. No, sir; I don't. 

Q. Cromwell? 

A. There was one there, but I can't recollect the 
name ; some man there on this particular business, but 
I can't recollect his name ; he was there. 

Q. Was he there on this business ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. He was there in order to have you make up your 
record ? 

A. I don't know as he was there on that or not ; he 
was there speaking about Mr. Woolley. 

Q. Did he ask you if you had made up your docket 
yet? 

A. I don't know that he did. 

Q. How long did you say you had known Moore ? 

A. Oh, I have known him eight or ten years. 

Q. Are you related to him ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. No way whatever ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Had either of these men been there to see you 
within a few days before they came this time ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Did you learn what this gentleman's name was 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 277 

that came to see you about the docket shortly after- 
wards ? 

A. I didn't; he might have told me his name at the 
time he was there to see me, but I don't recollect any- 
thing about his name. 

Q. What time in the morning was it that this man 
came there ? 

A. Well, sir, it was pretty early in the morning. 

Q. It was before day-break, wasn't it ? 

A. No, sir, it was after daylight, just after I 
got up. 

A. Well, now, hold on; which party do you mean? 

Q. The three men that came back there with Mr. 
Woolley. 

A. That was after daylight. 

Q. September, about what time in the morning? 

A. Indeed I couldn't tell you. 

Q. Where were you when the men came there, at 
your office ? 

A. No, sir ; 'twas in my house ; they came and went 
out of the house. 

Q. What, if anything, was said when they came back 
by Mr. Moore or Mr. Elliott or Mr. Fleming in the 
presence of Mr. Elliott? 

A. They wanted to go up to the office. 

Q. Do you recognize this gentleman (pointing) ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. You are not short-sighted, are you ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Now do you recognize this man coming to you 
within a few days afterwards and asking you if your 
docket was filled up ? 

A. No, sir, I don't know as I ever saw him. 

Q. Well, this is Mr. Cromly. I will ask you whether 
this gentleman, Mr. Cromly, met you within three or 



278 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

four days after the trial of Mr. Woolley, north of Jeffer- 
son on the pike ? 

A. I met some man north of Jefferson on the pike. 

Q. In company with some young man ? 

A. Yes, sir, there were two of them in a buggy. 

Q. Did that gentleman ask you whether you had 
made up your docket in the Woolley case yet ? 

A. I don't think he did. 

Q. Did that gentleman tell you (Mr. Cromly), at that 
time and place, that this was the third day and he would 
like to have that docket made up right away? 

A. I don't think he did. 

(Objected to.) 

Q. You say he did not ? 

A. Not to my recollection. 

Q. Did that gentleman ask you whether Mr. Woolley 
was before you or not, and you said that he was ? 

A. Well, sir, I can't recollect that he did. 

Q. Your recollection is that he did not? 

A. No, I won't say that ; he might have done it, but 
I can't recollect. 

Q. You can't recollect that he did? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Did you tell him, at that time, that you didn't 
know these parties that had brought Mr. Woolley there ? 

A. I don't think I did. 

Q. Did that gentleman ask you what the testimony 
was on the trial, and you told him that there was no 
witnesses produced and that you put Mr. Woolley on 
the stand and examined him, and found that he wasn't 
guilty on the charge and discharged him ? 

A. I might have told him that I swore him and 
didn't find anything against him. 

Q. Didn't you tell him that you found him not guilty 
and discharged him ? 



S. j. WOOLLEY. 279 

A. I may have told him that ; I don't know, sir. 

Q. You don't know ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. You might have told him that, and it wasn't the 
fact ; why did you tell him that ? 

A. I don't know that I did tell him, because I don't 
recollect. 

Q. You don't recollect what you did tell him ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Did you say to that gentleman that Woolley had 
better give them men a little money to keep the other 
party off him ? 

A. I don't know, sir ; I couldn't tell you. 

Q. You can't recollect? 

A. No, sir ; I might have told him that ; I won't 
say whether I did or not. 

Q. When these men came back in the morning, why 
did't you tell them the conclusion that you had come to 
a few minutes after you had issued the warrant, that you 
had no jurisdiction ? 

A. I did tell them. 

Q. Why didn't you tell them when they came to 
your house after you ? 

A. They didn't ask me; they wanted to go up into 
the office, and I went up with them. 

Q. How far did you have to go ? 

A. A few steps, it is right on the same lot, it is — it 
is on the same block. 

Q. What do you call a few steps ? 

A. Fifteen or twenty steps. 

Q. From your house to your office ? 

A. From my door to my office stairs. 

Q. Didn't that gentleman that you met on the road 
tell you distictly that he was a brother-in-law of 
Woolley's, and that his name was Cromwell ? 



280 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

A. He told me he was a brother-in-law of Woolley's, 
but I can't recollect his name. 

Q. Didn't he tell you his name, now, whether you 
recollect it now or not ? 

A. Yes, sir, he told me his name ; yes, sir. 

Q. Now, I will ask you in regard to the indorsement 
on this warrant at the request of the defendant and 
prosecuting witness : " I examined into the complaint 
and hereby order the defendant discharged from further 
restraint under this writ." Is that an exact copy made 
at the time this was taken ? 

A. Well, I suppose it is if there is no change in it. 

Q. Don't you know, when it was written by you 
and to the gentleman that came after it, and one was 
written by one and the other by the other ? 

A. I say that this is an exact copy if there has been 
no change in it. 

Q. "Jackson Woolley, by his request, was sworn 
and made the following statement : First, that he did 
not by any manner or any means coerce Pearly Mosure 
to burn his barn, and no evidence appearing to me that 
the defendant was in any way guilty, as charged ; or 
guilty of any offence against the laws of the State of 
Ohio, the defendant, Jackson Woolley, was ordered by 
me to be discharged from custody at the cost of T. L. 
Moore." Is that correct, sir ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Where is there in that for the want of jurisdiction ? 

A. No reply. 

Q. Didn't you tell this jury that you had examined 
into this complaint? 

A. I didn't examine into the complaint at all. 

Q. Why did you put that on the back there at all? 
" I examine into the complaint " ? 
„ A. By his request, I said. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 28l 

Q. You said, to this jury, didn't you, you didn't 
examine into the complaint? 

A. I didn't examine into it as a Justice of the Peace. 
And having tried is what I mean. 

Q. Didn't you say — isn't this signed T. D. Brown, 

j. p.? 

A. Yes, sir ; that is his sworn statement after I told 
him I hadn't no jurisdiction. 

Q. Is that your sworn statement, too ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. "And no evidence appearing to me that the 
defendant was in any manner guilty of any offence 
against the laws of the State of Ohio, the defendant, 
Jackson Woolley, was ordered by me to be discharged 
from custody at the cost of T. L. Moore." Is that Mr. 
Woolley 's sworn statement? 

A. That is what he swore to, all except the last part 
of it ; that I put in. 

Q. The part that I read to you is his sworn state- 
ment ? 

A. All but the last part of it, that part. 

Q. Didn't you say you put on the back of these 
papers that you discharged him for the want of juris- 
diction ? 

A. No, sir, I don't know as I did ; I don't know that 
I swore that I entered upon the back of those papers. I 
told them when they came into the office that I had no 
jurisdiction. 

Q. Didn't you, a while ago, in the presence of this 
jury, repeat several things that you had entered on the 
back of the papers, that you discharged him for the 
want ot jurisdiction, and not because he was not guilty 
of any crime known to the State of Ohio ? 

A. I don't think I did, I might. 

Q, If you might have done it, what do you mean 
35 



282 . LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

now; if you made the statement then, what do you 
mean now? 

A. I discharged him. I told them I had no jurisdic- 
tion when we came to the office, and then afterwards he 
made that statement. 

Q. After he was discharged ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. How does it come you entered up the statement 
first and then go on and enter up the discharge ? 

A. It is all the same thing. 

Q. It is all the same thing ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. We will read it over again : " Jackson Woolley, 
by his request, made the following statement : First, 
that he did not by any manner or any means coerce 
Pearley Mosure to burn his barn." Is that his state- 
ment? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. " And no evidence appearing to me " 

A. Who is meant by that me ? 

Q. "That the defendant was guilty as charged, or 
guilty of any offence against the laws of the State of 
Ohio." Whose language is that ? 

A. Mine. 

Q. "The defendant, Jackson Woolley, is ordered by 
me" ; is that Jackson Woolley or you ? 

A. That is me. 

Q. "To be discharged from custody at the cost of T. 
L. Moore " ? 

A. That is me. 

Q. "I hereby certify the matter above to be the pro- 
ceedings had by and before me." Is that a falsehood ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. It is not? 

A. No, sir. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 283 

Q. That is the truth, is it ? 

A. Right as it is written there is what I done there. 

Q. It is all the proceedings ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. If it is all the proceedings, where is your entry of 
having discharged this man for want of jurisdiction ? 

A. I never had jurisdiction in the matter. 

The re-direct examination of Mr. Brown was either 
mere repetition or the assertion of unimportant matters. 
The defence then called D. R. Hill. He swore that he 
saw Elliott about the third of September, and that he 
had with him at the time Moore, Fleming and myself. 
He said two of the party took breakfast at his house in 
West Jefferson that morning. They were Moore and 
Fleming. Elliott came to Hill's house, but did not eat 
breakfast there. Moore and Fleming were there about 
an hour and a half. Elliott was there about twenty or 
thirty minutes. Mr. Hill said he was not certain, but 
it appeared to him that I, also, was at his house for a 
short time. "When they all got ready to go, "said 
Mr. Hill, ' ' Woolley was in the buggy in front of the 
house." It was, of course, the policy of Mr. Rankin to 
ask Hill : ' ' Did you hear, and if so, state who invited, 
if anybody, Elliott to get into the buggy with him ? " He 
did not know ; he was certain only that Elliott got into 
my buggy. 

The interesting points in the trial were many, but 
the curiosity of the court-room was intense when Pearly 
Mosure was called. Mr. Rankin began in a bland way 
to ask the boy unimportant questions, when the boy 
in response said he was thirteen years of age, and that 
he had lived at my home, that he had left there about 
six months ago, and then he had been there about one 
year. His mother was dead ; his father was living. 
Part of the time he was "about here," and part of the 



284 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

time his father was in Michigan. His father was in 
Michigan when he left my home. He then said that 
my barn burned during the time of his residence there ; 
it occurred in July. Then, in a peculiarly paternal tone, 
Judge Rankin thus addressed the boy: "Now, 
Pearly, the next question, the question I am going to 
ask you ; now these gentlemen may think it ain't proper 
for you to answer it, and don't answer it until they 
determine whether they shall object to it or not. You 
said you knew how the barn took fire? " Said Pearly, 
4 'Yes, sir.". "Now," said Mr, Rankin, "I will ask 
you this question : whether it was accidental, or whether 
it was fired purposely ? " To which question, of course, 
objection was made, and the objection was very 
properly sustained ; to which the defence did themselves 
the delight of taking an exception. 

Mr. Rankin was not to be defeated in his plan to get 
what he so much desired out of that boy. He began 
in a half sympathetic tone again, with this query : 
" Now, Pearly, if you know who set that barn on fire, 
tell who it was and whether he did it on his own 
account or at the instigation of somebody else, and if 
so, state who that somebody else was ? " This was 
objected to by my faithful counsel. Judge Rankin 
arose and said: " I state professionally to the Court, 
as an attorney of this defendant, that if objection is 
sustained because of some other testimony that ought 
to precede it, we will at a subsequent state of the case, 
produce such testimony. T propose this offer in open 
court." The objection was sustained, and the defence 
contented themselves with another exception. Then 
the Judge asked : " Now, I will ask you another ques- 
tion, but you need not answer it until the Court tells 
you to: tell the jury whether, to your knowledge, that 
barn was burned by the direction of Mr. Woolley?" 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 285 

When objection was made the witness was withdrawn. 
A very interesting personage also came next in the 
person of Thomas L. Moore, one of the criminals. He 
described himself as one of the persons "who made 
the affidavit upon which a warrant was issued, and by 
virtue of which Mr. Woolley was arrested. " He very 
dignifiedly asserted that before this, he was possessed of 
information and was in the possession of facts which 
satisfied him that I was guilty of the crime with which I 
was charged. The craftiness of the defence was shown 
when the witness said only that he was satisfied in his 
own mind. Judge Rankin said: " The question went 
farther than that. I asked you whether you were in 
possession of information which operated upon your 
mind that brought you to that conclusion." I do not 
know whether Moore took in the labyrinthine meta- 
physics of that query or not, but as if he had been 
called to a special burst of intelligence, he meekly said, 
" I was." How it operated upon the lower hemisphere 
of his gigantic brain, I think my readers will judge. He 
was then asked if Fleming and Elliott had this informa- 
tion, and he said he had told them of it. But he went 
on to say that they never dreamed of such a bad thing 
as a conspirac}', or had in their saintly souls the evil 
thought of blackmail. He did not know whether he 
went into the house or not on the night of the arrest 
He then testified as to distance, and went over the 
route, telling, also, how Fleming went with Frank 
Davis for Pearly Mosure. He asserted, to use his own 
language, that on the route to Dublin "there were.no 
demands of any money in my presence, or property, or 
anything said." He said there were no "threats or 
menaces," and went on to explain with great clearness 
how "there couldn't have been any, because we rode 
there in a buggy and he rode on my knees most of the 



286 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

time." He asserted that there were no mentionings of 
forgery or counterfeiting, or passing counterfeit money 
— " not a word about it." He said that Elliott and he 
spoke of money in only one connection. He then went 
on to say that I said to them, when we were going out 
of the lane: " Gentlemen, I suppose it is money you 
are after," and that he (Moore) answered, "No, we 
ain't after your money, we expect to get our pay else- 
where." He then went on to testify that I told him 
that they could not get it out of the insurance company, 
because Mr. Seely had just been there and had just gone 
away, and that matter had been settled with him ; that 
I had paid back to Mr. Seely the money with interest 
which he had paid me for the burning of the barn. He 
swore that he did not think Elliott mentioned money on 
the whole ride. "Not one cent" was demanded by 
either of them. He then detailed the occurrences at 
Cook's saloon in Dublin, and testified that on his 
(Moore's) asking Elliott what was to be done, Elliott 
replied that M Woolley wanted to be taken back to 
West Jefferson to be tried there ; that he (Woolley) 
would waive examination and save the taking of the boy 
over to West Jefferson, and be bound over to the court 
and would go up there." Judge Rankin failed in the 
attempt to get from Moore any reason that I assigned for 
this self-imposed and delightful programme. Moore 
proceeded to say that at Cook's saloon, I talked with 
Pearly Mosure ; that I said, "Well, Pearly, I sup- 
pose you have told these men all about this business? " 
and that Pearly said, "Yes, sir, I have." Moore 
said that he himself spoke about taking the boy to West 
Jefferson, and remarked at the time " that it would be 
bad to drag that boy away over to Jefferson." Within 
five minutes after that, they had started, said Moore, to 
West Jefferson. The route was detailed. He told 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 287 

of the midnight visit to my house. No menances, as 
usual, were heard or dreamed of by the pure-minded 
Moore. Brown's office was reached, and that intelligent 
Justice was represented to that jury as saying: 
"Moore, what did you bring this man here for ? I 
have no jurisdiction over him. Mr. Woolley, I will 
have to discharge you." Then the matter of costs was 
inquired into. He saw no money divided, and did not 
remember any request to make a statement. 

In the midst of this, 'Squire T. D. Brown was recalled 
by the prosecution, and examined by the attorneys of 
the State and myself, concerning Mr. Sherwood's com- 
ing to see him, inquiring about the case of myself before 
him a day or so before. But poor Brown couldn't recol- 
lect anything about his saying to Sherwood that he 
gave me a "trial." The 'Squire hid it all behind the 
constant assertion that, as he said, they had "a heap of 
talk " and he could not remember. He did not remem- 
ber that Hann, the Marshall, told him, when he stayed 
in his house a whole day, that he must come out and 
explain the matter to the people. He did not even 
think that it was of any importance that he should con- 
duct himself in any particularly careful manner after the 
trial. He had brought his papers with him, and Judge 
Rankin looked carefully at them, while Mr. Outhv/aite 
went on with the questioning of Brown, as to Cromwell 
and Sherwood, who came to his office after I was missing, 
and hoped to satisfy the excited community and the 
hosts of friends who had assembled at my house con 
cerning my whereabouts. Reference to the city papers, 
as quoted in the appendix, will give the reader some 
idea of the feeling of those succeeding days. 

Moore was recalled, and the direct examination went 
on. He then told about the statement which I made, 
the tavern scene was re-stated, and a description of the 



288 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

way we took was given. From his testimony one would 
have supposed that I was running away with the three 
confederates, when the cross-examination begun. Sav- 
agely did they pierce the illusive fabrication. It was 
unfortunate for Moore that he had appeared before the 
grand jury to seek an indictment against me for arson, 
for this ground was traveled over. His statement to 
that grand jury was brought in shining contradiction to 
what he had just spoken. Witnesses, who were mem- 
bers of the grand jury, were called upon to testify, and 
did freely record the confusing absurdity of the truth of 
two such diverse stories. 

The ignorance which Moore displayed as to the ob- 
taining of money from me was only equalled by the ig 
norance he professed to have of the arrest of myself be- 
fore it occured. And the notes — why, he knew noth- 
ing of them. He never saw any notes at all. He did 
not know ''that Mr. Woolley was to pay anybody a 
cent." Nobody had any revolver to his knowledge. 
But the next day, when he went to my house, he said 
he did have one. He did not start out from home ex- 
pecting to make any arrest. He was only going to 
David Howard's near West Jefferson. And John Elli- 
ott got into his buggy at, or near, Patty Cummin's sa- 
loon, in Franklinton. There might have been some ar- 
rangement about their meeting there. Fleming natur- 
ally enough was met between Howard's and Big Darby. 
Frank Davis was with him. "They saw us," said 
Moore, " and kind of stopped." He swore he did not 
represent himself to be a U. S. Detective. He could 
not remember that two days after he told Mr. Harting- 
ton at Alton that he was a U. S. Detective. But he 
probably did, as he said, state in the presence of Lynn, 
Mr. Sherwood, or Mr. Johnson, or in the presence of 
some one of these, that he was a U. S. Detective. The 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 289 

" mob," he termed the hosts of my friends, which had 
gathered about my house the next day to seek my 
whereabouts. Moore said he told some of that "mob" 
that he was employed by the government to work up 
that case. He swore that he was not with Elliott when 
the handcuffs were obtained, and saw none. Moore 
said he first learned of the notes the day after they ar- 
rested me. It was probably two or three days. He got 
to Columbus certainly before he knew of the notes at all. 
When he was asked concerning my escaping them, he 
earnestly said: "He never got away from us." He 
then said that the three men, of whom he was one, 
stayed so long at Evan Jones' gate because they wanted 
to let their horse rest ; the horse had given out. It was 
all that persuaded them to stop. It was under a shade 
tree, and an excellent place to let a horse rest. They 
stopped about one hour. He saw young Evan Jones 
that morning, but he denied having heard John Elliott 
tell him that if Woolley did not come to Alton and pay 
that money by two o'clock, or come to Columbus and 
pay it by three o'clock, that he would dispose of that 
property he had. Here he saw a pair of handcuffs. 
The witness was pressed to embarrassment and perfect 
consternation with regard to the notes. He was then 
followed to the grand jury room where he was caught 
in the meshes of his own fabrication. The question of 
costs was brought up, and ignorance and absurdity were 
obtained in answer. He said that as he and Elliott 
drove toward Jefferson, they met Fleming, and, to use 
his words, ' ' we just drove along and he (Fleming) asked 
us where we were going. I said we was going over to 
Jefferson, and they pulled in behind us and went along." 
Moore affirmed again that he had no idea that day of 
having me arrested. Until they got to West Jefferson, 
not a word was spoken on the subject. Moore said he had 

36 



29O LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

no particular reason to give for his going to West Jeffer- 
son, after he left Mr. Howard's. He said : "I often go 
there ; I was very close there, some two and a half miles 
from West Jefferson, and I drove over there," He de- 
nied having said to Mr. Johnson, at my house, when, 
amidst the excitement, he came out to show where I 
had escaped them, that he had himself already converted 
those notes into money, and if they would come down 
with the cash to Columbus, the notes would be procured 
and returned to them. He denied having put his hand 
on his pocket and saying : * ' We have the money al- 
ready for those notes. " He said : " there was only one 
place that I spoke to Mr. Johnson ; that was in there, 
when we got into the barn-yard. Johnson opened the 
gate and let us in. Johnson went away, and this crowd 
of men, or mob, as I call it, came up around the buggy 
with knives and I don't know what else, and asked a 
thousand and one questions, and I don't know what all, 
and made threats at us. I thought we was in a pretty 
tight place. I don't remember just what we said. 
They undertook to arrest us ; I fought my way out, or 
the same thing, to the gate, and after I got at the gate, 
Johnson called me to come, and said : ' Mr. Moore, I 
want to see you.' Says I, 'As soon as I get out of 
this mob, so they can't get me, you can come to the 
buggy and I will talk with you.' And Johnson came 
up to the buggy, and says I : 'I will listen to what you 
have got to say." He said he would like to have these 
notes kept where they could be likely to get them. I 
said I didn't know anything about the notes, but I would 
use my influence to get the notes for them when they 
came down." 

Moore made objection to having to -answer whether 
he went to the Prosecuting Attorney, Mr. Clarke, and 
spoke to him about Mr. Elliott's selling his property. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 29I 

He was not allowed, by the objection of his attorneys, 
to answer concerning his having said to Mr. Clarke : 
" Elliott is in this so deep that he can't get out, if he 
stands a trial. He dragged me into it, and (with an 
oath), he wants to leave me in the lurch." His attor- 
neys would not let him answer if he saw a revolver the 
next morning in front of Evan Jones'. Nor did they 
desire to have exposed the black infamy of their witness, 
by having him answer as to the fact that the next day, 
when he was to my house, after I was missing, he drew 
his revolver, and Mr. Lynn said that he thought him to 
be more of a man than to draw a revolver on an un- 
armed man, to which, then, Moore replied: ' 'We always 
carry our revolvers. " 

It was fitting that the next witness should be the 
defendant himself, John W. Elliott. 

He began by telling the jury that he was one of the 
persons who went from West Jefferson on the night of 
September 3d, to my house. There was no conspiracy, 
he said, among those, or between any two of them, to 
extract money or property. He had information that I 
had burned my own barn. It was such that it produced 
the belief upon his mind that "Mr. Wooliey had been 
guilty of arson.". " On the fore part of the day," to 
use Mr. Rankin's words, Mr. Elliott said he went to 
Westerville to see Mr. Seely, an agent of the company. 
Elliott thus related the conversation with Mr. Seelly : 
11 I met Mr. Seely after I got over there on the corner 
of some street — right close to the corner, rather ; a gen- 
tleman showed me who he was, and he said, ' there 
goes Mr. Seely, now.' I had inquired for him; I did 
not know him at the time. I went down to meet him, 
and introduced myself and said : ' I have come over 
here to see whether they have offered any reward for 
the parties that had burned Woolley's barn,' and he 



2p2 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

said : 'there was none issued or offered as he knew of. ' 
And he said more than that, that he had wdrked that 
case up himself, but did not think there would be any, 
and if there was anything in it, he was going to get it 
himself. I don't know as we had much more conversa- 
tion about it. I asked him if there was any reward. 
I says : ' can't you offer any reward ? ' and he said he 
had no right to offer any reward, that the reward would 
have to come from the board or secretary direct. And 
then I asked him where I could find those men, and he 
told me at the time, but I have forgotten now. He 
said if he offered a reward it wouldn't be binding. 
He had no authority to do it. I never asked Mr. 
Seely to offer a reward of one dollar. Seely said to me 
that he had a man here in Columbus, or up there, I 
think he spoke of it, or up to Columbus, looking after 
that case for him, and had just received a letter from 
him the day before, and he said he was satisfied in his 
own mind that Mr. Woolley had burned his own barn 
from the evidence he had gotten, and wanted to know 
then what evidence I had then, but I would not tell him. 
I told him that ' I had not come here to give you any 
information I have got,' and he went on to state that 
Woolley had been down to see him, and that he had got 
track of more information himself, and that he had paid 
him ; that he believed there was something wrong in 
the burning of the barn, and that he had only paid him 
a part of the policy now ; that Woolley was abundantly 
good, and he could get it back, and that he could ferret 
it out and finish up the matter before he would pay the 
balance of the policy. He didn't name the man to me 
who had been working up the job for him, but coming 
down to Columbus on the train, he asked me if I knew 
a man by the name of Carr in the city, and I told him I 
knew an old gentleman, and he said this man worked 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 293 

up at the freight depot here in Columbus. I didn't 
know him. When Seely and I separated, he went up 
to see this man Carr. 

"The night of Woolley's arrest," he continued, 
" Chas. Fleming, Frank Davis and Thomas Moore and 
myself went in two buggies from West Jefferson to 
Woolley's. Mr. Davis, Fleming and myself went into 
Woolley's house. Moore stayed with the buggies and 
horses. Woolley was on the porch ; I went up and bid 
the time of evening, and Fleming was the one that had 
the warrant, and he said to him : ' Mr. Woolley, you 
are my prisoner.' Mr. Woolley's reply was, says he: 
'What is this, the Mosure business?' and Fleming 
said, ' No, it is about the burning of the barn. ' ' Then,' 
says he, - come into my house till I get my clothes on ; 
I will go with you.' " 

In this way the whole affair was detailed. Fleming 
said he would go after witnesses. Elliott said: "I 
could not tell the road. He asked Mr. Woolley which 
was the nearest way to go, and where the boy stayed, 
and he told him, ' I don't just know where the boy is.' 
But Fleming learned that he was on some other road, 
and we came through on to Hilliard and from there to 
Dublin, and Fleming had to take the other road where 
the boy was — the boy Pearly Mosure. Fleming and 
Davis took the road for the boy, and Moore and I took 
Woolley to Dublin. On the road to Dublin, not a word 
was said about one thousand or five hundred dollars. 
There were no charges or accusations brought against 
him concerning forgery or counterfeiting money. There 
was no talk about the 'proof among the neighbors. ' 
Nothing was said about the coming in the night to keep 
it secret ; nothing of these, from Woolley's to West 
Jefferson." He then repeated Moore's fabrication 
about my conversation, and the talk concerning the 



294 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

insurance company. At Cook's saloon they were wait- 
ing, he said, for Fleming. It was half amusing to hear 
Elliott tell the jury that, " when they came up with the 
boy, Fleming said : ' here is Pearly. ' We stepped off 
a little to one side ; ' now, ' I says, ' my son, I want 
you to tell me the truth about the burning of the barn ; 
I want you to tell me the truth, just as it is ; now be 
sure to tell me the facts.' " Elliott repeated what 
Moore said about my conversation with the boy. 
" About this time," said Elliott, " Fleming started to 
wake 'Squire Tuller ; I called him back. Woolley said 
to me, ' call Fleming back,' says he, ' I don't want to 
be tried here. I will go over to Jefferson. I don't 

want ' 1 wouldn't be positive whether he said he 

would plead guilty or waive examination ; I won't be 
positive which he said, but that ' he didn't want to be 
tried here ; that it would get into the newspapers in this 
county, and he didn't want to have it there.' Woolley 
said it wasn't necessary to take the boy along. He said 
he would plead guilty or waive examination. Fleming 
was to take the boy back home. I rode with Woolley 
to Jefferson." Moore's story of the occurrence in West 
Jefferson was substantially repeated. He said : " After 
Fleming and Woolley had been behind the screen 
awhile, Woolley called me to come around, and said to 
me : 4 Mr. Elliott, will you take these notes and hold 
them as collateral? ' I said, ' I will if it is your wish,' 
and I wanted to know what they were for, and he said 
it was ' expenses that we men had been to. ' Woolley 
said there were some five or six hundred dollars worth 
of them. " Elliott said he knew nothing about the costs. 
" Moore pulled the money out of his pocket." 

The tavern affair was canvassed. The horse-shoeing 
was related. He asserted that he showed me where 
the shop was, and that no one went with me to the shop 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 295 

where the horse was shod. After that, Elliott said: 
"Woolley drove right up in front of the tavern, and 
called for me ; and I went out to the buggy, and talked 
a little bit ; and he asked me to come and get into the 
buggy and go with him, and that he would go and bor- 
row the money to pay the expense ; and I says : ' Mr. 
Woolley, you go and get the money and come down to 
Alton ; it is nearer for us to go to Alton than to go 
around that way.' And he said the second time : ' No ; 
come and get in with me,' and I got into his buggy with 
him and started off, and Mr. Moore and Fleming fol- 
lowed until we got to the first road to turn North, after 
we left Jefferson, the Plain City pike, I believe, and 
there Mr. Woolley motioned, and even called for them 
to come up. We drove up I don't know how far on 
that road, and there was some road to go across, some 
by-road. We did not halt until we got in front of Evan 
Jones'. Right here, he said : 'I will go down here and 
see if I can get some money of Jones. ' I got out and 
opened the gate, and said, ' it was not necessary for me 
and the rest of us to go in, and will wait until you 
come back.' And we let our horses graze alortg the 
road, and sat down under a shade tree that stood in the 
road. We stayed there until a little after 11 o'clock in 
the forenoon. Mr. Woolley did not return. I did not 
see him any more that day. I don't know, probably it 
was a month after that — a good while anyhow — before I 
seen him any more. Fleming started, when he left us, 
to go back to Woolley's house to change horses. He 
said that his horse had given out, and that he would 
stop at Woolley's house and there borrow a horse — he 
returned to get his own horse that he left there. Davis 
and Moore returned to Alton. I didn't see Frank Davis 
after we was in Dublin. I heard the testimony of Oran 
Clover. I had a conversation with him. I told him 



2g6 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

that I had received one hundred and eighty dollars in 
money. I told him that Mr. Woolley had paid Mr. 
Seely $180 back that he had received on the policy. I 
did not tell Clover that I was to receive three hundred 
dollars more. I did not say that if Woolley did not 
come there, or to Columbus, and pay it before sundown 
that I would dispose of the notes. I told Oran Clover 
that I went to Evan Jones' with him to borrow some 
money to pay the expenses we had been to. I did not 
tell Mr. Seely that Woolley was rich, and that he 
should go in and take a one-fourth interest, and that I 
could make him come down. I saw no revolver during 
the whole time." 

The cross-examination was conducted by Mr. Clark. 
I can not too highly commend the wisdom of the people 
of Franklin county in the election and re-election of 
this excellent young lawyer to this responsible position. 
In this case he was a model of industry and sagacity. I 
shall not be able to put into words what I feel of per- 
sonal gratitude to him for the generous devotion he 
gave to the cause, the unbounded enthusiasm he 
evinced in the looking up of evidence and the scholarly 
sagacity which characterized everything he did. His 
plea was an extraordinary word picture, and was so knit 
with logic and loaded with argument that it seemed irre- 
sistible. He and his co-counsel deserve great credit, 
and the assurance is at least worth mention that the 
people may know that so long as he is at the head of 
the department of justice in Franklin county a vigilant 
pair of eyes and a noble devotion will serve the rights 
of men as against the criminals who may be unfortunate 
enough to fall into his hands. 

Mr. Clark had him repeat that I gave him no money 
in 'Squire Brown's office. He then gave the gentleman 
the benefit of the following dialogue : 



S. j. WOOLLEY. 297 

Q. Did you testify before the Grand Jury, last Janu- 
ary term, in the case that came there upon complaint 
against S. J. Woolley, filed by yourself and Moore ? 

A. I was there ; yes, sir. 

Q. I will ask you if at that time — 

A. The complaint of whom ? 

Q. Yourself and Moore. 

A. I was a witness there. 

Q. And didn't you and Moore come to me with a 
list of witnesses and ask to be subpoenaed. 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. I will ask you if, at that time, you didn't testify 
in the Grand Jury room that S. J. Woolley gave you 
$20 to change and that you did change it, and that you 
gave $5 to 'Squire Brown for the costs? 

A. I never testified to such a thing. 

Q. Then I will ask you if, at the same session of the 
Grand Jury and at the same time when you were testi- 
fying, you didn't enumerate what the balance of that 
$20 was for ? 

A. I don't know. 

Q. After testifying once of giving it to Woolley, and 
then further along in your examination you said you 
kept it for expenses ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. And if I didn't then examine — 

A. I could not have testified to such a thing as that, 
because I didn't handle a dollar of the money. 

Q. Didn't you enumerate then that you had two 
buggies, and they were worth so much, and the horses 
worth so much, and breakfast, and go on and enumer- 
ated your expense, and say it was $20? 

A. You might have asked me there what the ex- 
penses were, and I might have went on then and ex- 
plained what the expenses were. 
37 



298 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OE 

Q. And if you didn't answer and said, enumerating 
the expenses, that is $15 ; the balance of the $20 was 
kept for expenses? 

A. That Woolley should have given to me ? 

Q. Yes, sir. 

A. No, sir. I never testified to any such thing. 

All of which will be the more interesting if the reader 
will but refer to the testimony of the Grand Jurors, 
Messrs. Staley and Durant, on a subsequent page. 

Mr. Clark then attacked him with reference to when 
he first saw Moore on the 3d of September, and Mr. 
Clark obtained the following facts from the unwilling 
witness; " I saw Moore in the morning before I started 
to Westerville. I stayed a part of the night at his house. 
I got there some time in the night and went to bed and 
stayed there until morning at his hotel. A part of the 
night Fleming was there; the latter part of the night. 
Fleming and I came in together. I don't know as 
Moore knew where I was going. Fleming knew that I 
was going there. When I came back from Westerville, I 
got off the train at the depot. I came along High street, 
and stopped at one or two places and finally went down 
to Moore's. I don't know just exactly where I was, 
but was at Moore's. Then crossed over to Cummins', 
on the other side of the river. I don't know as I told 
Moore that I had been to Westerville.'* 

Then Mr. Clark called up the recollections of Elliott 
about what he said before the Grand Jury. It was un- 
fortunate for the criminal that on the stand in his own 
trial, he forgot what he had said to the Grand Jury, in 
the desperate effort they made to make me a criminal. 
Madness itself seems to have come over them in their 
intent, at any cost of consistency or probability of truth, 
to place me behind the bars and thus accomplish their 
own freedom. Mr. Clark worried him with the fact of 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 299 

his having sworn before the Grand Jury that on the 
morning before he started to Westerville he told Moore 
that he was going up to find out if he could not get a 
reward offered ; that when he came back he recited to 
Moore what conversation had occurred between Seely 
and himself; that he got into the buggy with Moore at 
his place on Broadway and started for West Jefferson. 
Elliott said his intention in getting into Moore's buggy 
was that he was going home, and Moore said he was 
going to Howard's. "I went to Jefferson to keep 
Moore company. That was the first time I thought of 
going there." 

Here the questions and answers are reproduced, 
which is but justice to the interested reader: 

Q. That was the first time you had thought of going 
to Jefferson ? 

A. That day, yes, sir. 

Q. Did Moore tell you what his business was at West 
Jefferson? 

A. No, he didn't tell me what his business was over 
there ; he told me what his business was at Howard's, the 
reason why he wanted me to go with him. 

Q. He just said he had business over at West Jeffer- 
son and wanted you to go over there? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. And you went over there for company's sake? 

A. I thought I would rather ride over there in order 
to ride back. 

Q. What time did you get into Jefferson ? 

A. Well, I don t know. 

Q. Where did you get your supper that night? 

A. I don't think I eat any supper that night; I think 
I eat when I got back. I think I got my dinner at 
Columbus before I started out ; I don't think I eat any 
supper that night. 



300 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Q. You got along with one meal that day ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Where did you get your dinner that day? 

A. I couldn't tell you, probably at Hart Shrader's, I 
often do when I am down that way. 

Q. It was dark when you got to Jefferson ? 

A. Well, it must have been somewhere along pretty 
near there, I don't know, I wouldn't be positive. 

Q. When did Moore first make known to you his bus- 
iness in Jefferson ? 

A. I think that he didn't say anything about it until 
after we stopped at Howard's. 

Q Until you had stopped at Howard's ? 

A. Yes, sir, and had went to Howard's. 

Q. I mean did he then tell you what business he had 
down to Jefferson? 

A. No more than what he had said. 

Y. When did Moore tell you the nature of the busi- 
ness that he had in West Jefferson ? 

A. He didn't tell me. 

Q. You don't know to this day what it was? 

A. No, sir, I didn't ask him. 

Q. When did you meet Fleming that day? 

A. Between Howard's and Big Darby. 

Q. How did Fleming happen to turn around and go 
back with you ? 

A. We was driving along and hollowed "whoop", 
and he just turned right around, and followed us right 

along until we got to a man by the name of , and 

we stopped there. 

Q. He understood what that whoop meant, didn't he? 

A. I don't know as he did, he just stopped and went 
along. 

Q. Suppose you met Judge Rankin in a wagon out 
there, and hollowed "whoop," and he followed you 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 3OI 

right along to West Jefferson, would't you think it 
strange ? 

A. Oh, no, sir, if his business wasn't very important ; 
I have been out riding and wasn't very particular where 
I was going. 

Q. As the boys say, he tumbled to it ? 

A. Well, he turned around and came back. 

Q. You rode on to Jefferson, didn't you? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. And had a procession of two vehicles at that time? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. What did you first do when you first got to Jef- 
ferson ? 

A. We stopped at Millard's and got a drink. 

Q. Then what was done, all four of you together? 

A. Yes, sir. * 

Q. Did Fleming ask you what you wanted of him ? 

A. No, sir, I don't think he asked me about that; 
there is where the conversation came up about Mr. 
Woolley. We had no idea about meeting Fleming un- 
til after I had caught him ; I found that Fleming had 
been there ; some one was talking about it. 

Q. This was that afternoon? 

A. No, sir, this was while we were at Alton ; we 
wanted to serve a subpoena on Mr. Fleming as a witness. 
That was the first that I knew that Mr. Fleming was out 
that way. 

Q. Answer my question. You say in the saloon was 
the first time you discussed about this matter of filing 
an affidavit against Woolley ? 

A. Yes, sir. 

Q. Who mentioned it first? 

A. I don't know exactly who mentioned it first. Mr. 
Fleming and I got to talking, but I couldn't tell you 
who mentioned it first. 



302 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Q. Did Fleming ask you what you meant by whoop, 
and you tell him you went over there to swear out an 
affidavit against Woolley ? 

A. I didn't, and he didn't ask me any such question. 

Q. You didn't ; who mentioned it first ? 

A. I don't know, now, sir ; no, sir. 

Q. How long were you in Jefferson altogether that 
evening? 

A. Well, sir, I couldn't answer. I don't know what 
time it was when we left there ; I don't know what time 
it was when we got there. 

Q. Well, were you there an hour ? 

A. We might have been and might not have been, or 
longer ; we might have been a little longer. 

Q. How long were you in 'Squire Brown's office? 

A. I don't think we was there a great while; proba- 
bly long enough for him to draw up an affidavit and 
write out a warrant. 

Q. All four of you came there ? 

A. I believe we did ; there was all four of us there. 

Q. Then you all four started to arrest him? 

A. That was after we got the warrant issued we 
started for Woolley's house. 

Q. Mr. Elliott, I will ask you if this wasn't your lan- 
guage in your testimony before the Grand Jury, that in 
Columbus here, at Moore's, when you got back, after 
talking with Moore and telling him what had transpired 
between Seely and yourself, and if you didn't say then, 
" we then got into the buggy and started for West Jef- 
ferson to swear out a warrant for the arrest of Woolley ? " 

A. I couldn't have said that, because we didn't start 
there for that intent. 

Q. Then you say you didn't say so ? 

A. No, sir, I don't think that I did. 

Q. I will ask if you didn't say before the Grand Jury 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 303 

that in 'Squire Brown's office, the next morning after you 
brought Woolley there, while these costs were being 
paid and so on, that you was sitting back and didn't see 
what was going on at the table ? 

A. No, sir, I will tell you what I said about it. 

Q. Did you say that? 

A. No, sir ; I said 1 wasn't there at the time the 
costs was figured up was the reason that I couldn't tell 
you how much the costs was. 

Q. Where were you then ? 

A. I think Fleming and I was standing a little back at 
the time the costs were spoken of, and then we stepped 
up to the table, but I didn't see how much it was figured 
up at. 

Q. Did you see Moore lying down in the 'Squire's 
office on the counter, reclining ? 

A. He might have been on the table ; I don't know ; 
I couldn't say positively now. 

Re-cross examination : 

Q. How often were you before the Grand Jury, Mr. 
Elliott? 

A. Once. 

Q. Did you see Woolley down here in the hall 
waiting to be called as a witness, at the session that you 
appeared to testify against Woolley ? 

A. I saw him in the hall. 

Q. Was that before you had testified ? 

A. I don't know that. 

Q. Don't you know as a matter of fact, that it was 
after you testified ? 

A. No, sir. 

Q. Didn't you know as a matter of fact, that your 
charge against Woolley was considered first by that 
Grand Jury ? 

A. No, sir, I didn't. 



304 LTFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OE 

When Pearly Mosure was re called by the defence, 
the same effort was made upon him as had been so 
ardently attempted before. Judge Rankin asked him 
in various forms who burned the barn, that the con- 
spiracy might say the last word. Here occurred the 
long argument upon both sides, which engaged the 
Court for some time. Authorities were quoted, and 
some very eloquent talking was done, but the objection 
which the State made to such questioning was sustained. 
It was then in order for the defence to introduce some 
letters which I had written to William Fleming, the 
brother of one of the conspirators, and Emma Fleming, 
the wife of Clark Fleming. The argument was deferred 
until further along in the closing hours of the case. Mr. 
M. W. Stutson was called by the defence, and for the 
purpose evidently of proving that I invited Elliott to 
get into my buggy at Jefferson ; but when, by circui- 
tious routes that point was reached, and the question 
was asked : M If you heard any person invite Elliott to 
get in, state who it was?" he said: "I couldn't so 
state." "Didn't hear anybody say?" asked the ques- 
tioner. " No, sir," said the witness, " not to the best 
of my recollection." 

At this point the State brought in two witnesses in 
rebuttal. E. C. Hill testified that in front of his hotel 
on the morning of the fourth of September, Thomas L. 
Moore said in his presence that he had made one hun- 
dred dollars that night. Andrew Miller said that on 
the same morning, at Hill's hotel in Jefferson, Moore 
told him confidentially that he made one hundred dol- 
lars very easy that night. 

Here came the argument of counsel on both sides, as 
to the admission of those letters in testimony. It was 
a long and fierce struggle, and ended by the Court say- 
ing: "I don't think the letters can be admitted, as the 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 305 

matter stands." Judge Rankin then put in an affidavit 
for the continuance of the case. The absence of Mat 
Grace was lamented in the paper. But the Court sus- 
tained the objection to the movement, and the defence 
had to except. The jury which had been out during all 
this argument, was recalled, and I was asked to testify. 
Judge Rankin seemed greatly exercised concerning my 
prejudices against this amiable man Elliott, and could 
not avoid his questioning me on that point. I gave 
him to understand that I could tell the truth and at the 
same time be exceedingly severe in my judgment con- 
cerning evil men. The matter of the letters was 
traversed, and the whole meaning of my letters was 
shown when they were found to be answers to letters 
received, and that I did desire by Fleming to exibit the 
foulness of the conspiracy. John S. Cromwell, called 
by the State in rebuttal, was examined by Judge 
Rankin, who objected to him. He nevertheless yielded 
the following facts to the prosecution : He met 'Squire 
Brown on the pike, north of Jefferson ; he knew him ; 
he asked him about the Woolley matter. He found 
out from Brown's lips that he (Brown) had examined 
the testimony against him, and had found him not 
guilty and had acquitted him. He (Cromwell) went to 
Brown's to find out some facts about the mystery. 
Nobody could tell anything, and my reader need but 
refer to the extracts from the papers to find what was 
the feverish excitement at the time. Judge Rankin 
pressed him on this point, until Mr. Cromwell gave him 
this quick and clear reply : ' ' Well, sir, I will tell you : 
Mr. Woolley was charged with a crime, tried by the 
Justice and acquitted, as he represented. The public 
opinion at that time was that Mr. Woolley had been 
dealt with foully. My object in making that investiga- 
tion was to enable me to come to some rational con- 

38 



306 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

elusion upon that point ; to know whether the circum- 
stances would justify me in concluding that these parties 
had dealt foully with Woolley. Brown said nothing 
about any want of jurisdiction." 

Thomas Sherwood swore, also, that Brown told him 
that he " tried the case, and found him not guilty and 
acquitted him." He thought, as a neighbor, he ought 
to go up to West Jefferson and see about the matter. 

Then, to the consternation of Elliott, came Mr. Frank 
Staley and Dr. Frank Durant, members of the Grand 
Jury, who gave the Court and jury some little insight 
into the effort of Elliott and Moore to indict me for 
arson. They detailed the evidence of these men so 
that it was evident that desperation had been yoked 
with wickedness, and the jury must have felt that the 
foulness of the conspiracy had hardly been reached. 

May 20th had been reached in the lingering progress 
of the trial, when Judge Rankin tried to quote one of 
the articles from the daily Dispatch, published in the 
appendix. The Court refused this privilege to him, and 
the testimony on both sides closed. 

Through the story I have thus given of this trial, I 
have made reference to the excitement of the people 
over the whole matter, and the growing interest of the 
community, and the city of Columbus in the finding out 
of all facts connected with my experience that night. 
I make the following extracts from the Ohio State Journal, 
which are only examples of the spirit of inquiry in 
many other papers. The extracts themselves will relate 
the story without personal prejudice of my own. They 
will correct their own mistakes and I can only ask the 
reader to read them all in the light of the result of the 
trial of these base men. Under each date, I put the 
extracts which I copy from the Journal: 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 307 

[September 6th, 1879.] 
MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 



The Citizens of Brown Township in a State of Ex- 
citement— S. J. Woolley, a Prominent Farmer, 
Gone — A Story of Arson, Arrest, Settlement 
"Hush Money" — Proceedings which are Linked 
to Westerville, Dublin, Alton, Hilliard, West 
Jefferson and Other Outlying Provinces. 
Brown township, this county, is all torn up over the 
mysterious disappearance, since Thursday last, of S. J. 
Woolley, a prominent farmer and owner of a tile fac- 
tory. The particulars of the affair did not reach the 
city until a late hour last night, and even then came in 
a disconnected manner so that it was difficult to secure 
a true run of the story. A man named F. E. Linn, a 
neighbor of Woolley's, called on the Chief of Police 
shortly after 9 o'clock last night, and just after the 
Police Commissioners had adjourned, and gave an ac- 
count of the disappearance and related a few other cir- 
cumstances connected therewith which gives the story 
more than a local bearing. 

The result of Mr. Linn's call was an immediate order 
for the arrest of Thomas L. Moore, keeper of a saloon 
and hotel on West Broad street, and Charles Fleming, 
of West Jefferson, who was found at Moore's house. 

At the station house suspicion was entered opposite 
their names. The story of Linn is that Moore and 
Fleming came to Woolley's house Wednesday evening, 
the former claiming to be a United States detective and 
the latter a deputy marshal, and arrested him, as they 
alleged, on a charge of arson. They said they were 
going to take him to Dublin for trial, and seemed to be 
in a big hurry to get away. The distance to Dublin is 



308 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

about nine miles, and they were gone, says Mr. Linn, 
some four hours, when they came back to the residence 
of Mrs. Woolley and told her they had to go to West 
Jefferson. Mr. Linn says they proceeded to West Jef- 
ferson the same night and claimed to have had a trial 
before 'Squire Brown. They then came back in the 
direction of Woolley's residence until within about three 
miles of his farm, where Woolley stopped at the house 
of a man named Evan Jones and tried to borrow $300, 
as is supposed for the purpose of settling the case. Not 
being able to secure the money here, Woolley left his 
horse hitched to the fence and started across a field and 
piece of woods to the house of a man named Thomas 
Rees, where he thought he could secure the money. 
Woolley has not been seen since he started across the 
fields in the direction of Mr. Rees's house, which was 
some time during the forenoon of Thursday, and the 
whole country is excited over his continued abscence, 
and of course numerous stories are afloat in regard to 
foul play, suicide and, least of all, that he has left the 
country. Mr. Linn states that Moore and Fleming 
came back again yesterday, and a crowd of the neigh- 
bors who had gathered at Woolley's house, undertook 
to arrest them, but were resisted at the point of a re- 
volver. The two men left and started in the direction 
of the city, arriving here between 7 and 8 o'clock last 
night. Mr. Linn's effort was to get in ahead of them, 
and secure their arrest as soon as they reached the city. 

As an evidence of the strong feeling that exists against 
Moore and Fleming, the following precaution was also 
taken last evening, in addition to that of sending Linn 
to the city: 

Hilliards, Ohio, September 5. 
To Charles Engelke, Chief of Police, Columbus : 

S. J. Woolley has been mysteriously missing some 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 3O9 

time. Arrest T. L. Moore and Charles Fleming on sus- 
picion of maltreatment. 

Fannie Woolley. 

The foregoing was received shortly after eight o'clock 
last evening, but did not reach Captain Engelke until 
he had seen Mr. Linn and ordered Sergeant Lingo and 
roundsman Lee to make the arrests. A call was made 
on Moore and Fleming at the Station last night, but 
they had very little to say. In fact they were ex- 
tremely reticent, and looked at the efforts of the re- 
porter to get the facts in the case asa " set up job " to 
do them some injury. On being approached with "What 
are the facts in this case, Mr. Moore ?" the man looked 
savage, fairly gritted his teeth, and replied : 

' ' Open that door and I will soon show you all there 
is in the case." 

Mr. Moore, however, soon quieted down, but not to 
the extent of giving any detailed account of his business 
up in the country. He, however, said he had gone up 
there with this young man, at his request, and so far 
as he was concerned himself he was on private business. 
Mr. Moore was very anxious to learn what the reporter 
had picked up from other sources, but was not in the 
business of giving out himself. He ventured the opin- 
ion that there was something behind all the alleged 
arson business, sufficient to cause Woolley to leave the 
country. The most of which Mr. Moore gave out 
would not be sufficient to furnish a full connected ac- 
count, as he preferred rather to tell what he knew about 
it when the case came up for trial. 

Mr. Fleming was even more backward on the sub- 
ject of talking and did not care to enter into any detail 
of the cause of the arrest, even if he knew. 

As learned from two or three sources, the alleged 
arson part of the business is somewhat as follows : 



3IO LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

About one year ago Woolley had a barn burned, which 
which was insured in the Ohio Farmers', of which D. 
T. Seely, of Westerville, is agent. It is stated that 
there were suspicions at the time that Woolley had the 
barn burned for the insurance, but nothing definite 
could be secured in regard to the matter. One source 
of information has it that the neighbors believed him 
innocent of the charge as it is claimed that the barn or 
stable, as it may have been, was struck by lightning 
during the daytime and fired, and the same was put out 
by a tenant of Mr. Woolley. It is claimed that the 
same tenant at night awoke and saw the barn burning, 
and believed it to be from the old fire, which he had 
failed to extinguish entire during the day. The other 
part of the story in regard to the burning is, that Mr. 
Woolley had in his employ a boy named Pearl Mosure, 
whom he ordered to fire some rye straw in the barn. 
He was first offered compensation, and afterward did 
the work under threat. A falling out took place 
some time afterward between Woolley and the boy, 
the latter leaving. The foregoing is given as the 
story which comes from the boy, and it is further 
stated that the boy's father, who is a shop-keeper in 
Dublin, has received hush money in the case. It seems 
that Mr. Seely has been working up evidence in 
the case, and had several parties assisting him, among 
them Officer Carr, watchman at the Short Line Yards, 
and it may be that Moore and Fleming have some au- 
thority in the case from Seely. 

The most connected story of the whole affair was 
secured last night from Mr. John Elliott, of Alton, who 
came to the city Thursday with Moore and Fleming. 
He says the warrant was issued by 'Squire Brown of 
West Jefferson, charging Woolley with arson, and that 
Fleming was authorized to serve the summons. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 311 

Fleming came to town Wednesday, and he and Moore 
went out with a hired rig to Woolley's house Wednes- 
day evening, when the arrest was made. They 
changed horses at Mr. Woolley's, taking one of his, 
while the prisoner rode in a buggy by himself, and they 
proceeded to Dublin, expecting to have the case tried 
before 'Squire Tuller. At Dublin, however, the mat- 
ter was settled with the assistance of Lyman Cook, at- 
torney, Woolley agreeing to give back Mr. Seely the 
sum he had received as insurance money, defray all 
expenses that had been incurred in the case, and what 
further Mr. Elliott did not state. After the agreement 
had been entered into at Dublin, the three men started 
back in the night, going to Woolley's house, and ar- 
riving in West Jefferson some time in the after part of 
the night. Matters were here arranged before the 
'Squire, the suit withdrawn, and about 8 o'clock Thurs- 
day morning, the three men started in the direction of 
Woolley's house, en-route to which the latter expected 
to borrow the money to make the settlements. When 
they came near the house of Evan Jones, Moore and 
Fleming waited for him to go in and transact his busi- 
ness. Not securing the money here he started across 
the fields and woods to see Thomas Rees, as before 
stated, and has not been heard from since. 

Mr. Elliott states that Fleming went on a distance of 
two^ or three miles to get the horse which he had left at 
Mr. Woolley's, and Moore, after waiting some time, 
went to Alton, where the three had arrangements to 
meet at 2 o'clock, and all matters would be adjusted. 
It seems that Fleming, after getting his horse, reached 
Alton by some other route, instead of coming back the 
same way. They waited at Alton until 4 or 5 o'clock 
in the afternoon, Thursday, when they came to the city, 
Mr. Elliott coming with them. 



312 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

Yesterday morning early, a young man named John- 
son, who resides in the vicinity of Woolley's, came to 
the city to see if Woolley had turned up here, but find- 
ing he had not, went back, and was soon followed by 
Moore and Fleming. Mr. Elliott states that they started 
out about 2 o'clock yesterday, going to Woolley's house, 
where a dozen or more of farmers had gathered, and 
were in an excited state of mind over the situation. 
Captain Sells, of Hilliard, who was one of those present, 
ordered Mr. Linn to arrest Moore and Fleming, but the 
latter refused to be put under arrest unless the proper 
papers had been issued. The result was they drove 
back to the city and- were arrested as stated. 

The absorbing topic in Brown township is, of course, 
the disappearance of Woolley, Whatever suspicions 
may rest against Moore and Fleming as regards the 
mysterious disappearance will be developed on a hearing 
of the case. This may be the principal charge which 
will be lodged against them, as the tone of the telegram 
indicates. As regards the personating of officers, there 
are two sides to the story. Moore and Fleming may be 
able to explain away this part of the proceeding, pro- 
vided it happened as stated. 

The peculiar feature of the whole theory of the arson 
and disappearance business is, how Mr. Woolley could 
afford, in the light of his standing, to allow such charges 
to rest against him. He owns a farm of over six hun- 
dred acres, is the owner of a large tile factory, and is 
said to be one of the substantial men of Brown town- 
ship. People from that quarter will be in the city to- 
day, when, probably, further particulars can be had. It 
is a mysterious affair all around, and seems to be with- 
out intelligent beginning or end. 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 313 

[September 8tk, 1879.] 



Further Particulars of the Mysterious Disappear- 
ance — Latest Phase of the Alleged Arson — In- 
terview with Seely, the Insurance Agent — 
Woolley Refunds the Money with Interest. 
S. J. Woolley, of Brown township, an account of 
whose mysterious disappearance appeared in this paper 
Saturday morning, had not been heard from at last ac- 
counts. There are several peculiar features in the case, 
which remain yet to be developed. Moore and Flem- 
ing, who were arrested and placed in the city prison on 
Friday evening, on suspicion of having foully dealt with 
Woolley, are still held, and have nothing to say in re- 
gard to the affair. Constable Linn, of Brown township, 
who was one of the party making an effort to arrest 
Moore and Fleming Friday afternoon at Woolley's resi- 
dence, and were resisted at the muzzle of a revolver, 
appeared in the city Saturday morning and swore out a 
warrant charging them with assault with intent to kill. 
On this charge Moore and Fleming were bound over to 
court, but did not give bail, although claiming to be 
able to do so. They are now being held for further 
developments in the matter of Woolley's disappearance. 
The excitement still continues in the neighborhood 
of Hilliard, and the people are slow to believe the 
theory that Mr. Woolley is guilty of arson, but rather 
look upon the proceeding of Moore and Fleming as a 
scheme for blackmailing. The theories are either that 
Woolley has been foully dealt with or has been hounded 
about by these men until he concluded to leave the 
country, for a time, at least, until matters became settled. 
As regards the arson, Mosure, the saloon keeper of 
Dublin, says that Woolley did lure his son to burn the 
barn. He denies having received consideration for 
39 



314 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

keeping the matter quiet. It is stated that Mosure was 
in the city Saturday and told Carr, the man who helped 
to work up the case, that he would take $1,000 and 
push his boy out of the country, then Woolley would 
come home and there would be no one to prosecute 
him. This little conversation, if true, would indicate 
that it is a money grabbing game all around. 

A reporter of this paper had a talk with Mr. D. S. 
Seely, of Westerville, Saturday, the agent for the Ohio 
Farmers', the company in which the barn was insured. 
The information received from Mr. Seely puts a rather 
different phase on the entire matter, and one that will 
be a matter of regret to those who believe Mr. Woolley 
innocent of the charge of arson. Some time after the 
barn was burned and the insurance money, about one 
hundred and eighty dollars, had been paid, Mr. Seely 
heard of the arson charges and paid Mr. Woolley a visit. 
The affair was talked over. Mr. Woolley seemed will- 
ing, at the time, to pay the money back and save all 
further trouble, but Mr. Seely did not care to involve 
himself in any questionable transaction, hence it was 
concluded to let the matters develop themselves. 

An agreement was made, however, that the money 
should be refunded on certain conditions, together with 
interest thereon from the date of payment. As near as 
could be gathered from Mr. Seely's remarks, he de- 
sired to give Woolley a chance to settle the matter with- 
out exposing himself and injuring his reputation. 

Mr. Seely says that he never told any person that 
suspicion rested against Woolley for burning the barn, 
and further that he had no person in his employ work- 
ing up the charge of arson. On last Wednesday, Mr. 
Seely says, John Elliott, of Alton, came to his house 
in Westerville, and told him that they had the case 
worked up and wanted him to offer a reward, even if it 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 315 

was not more than a dollar. He says that he refused to 
offer a reward of any character whatever, and further, 
refused to make affidavit for Woolley's arrest ; hence, 
what was done was without any authority from him. 
After Elliott had gone away, Mr. Seely drove across 
the country to see Woolley, which was some time during 
the afternoon, Wednesday. He told Woolley that the 
shape things had assumed, he believed it would be bet- 
ter to pay the money back with interest. Woolley was 
of the same opinion, and paid the money back. This 
was a transaction between man and man, and Seely 
left for home with the understanding that the affair had 
been settled. In the evening of the same day was when 
Moore and Fleming appeared on the ground and took 
Woolley on the wild goose chase to Dublin, West Jef- 
ferson, etc. , and finally lost him Thursday forenoon, the 
particulars of which have been given in this paper. 
From the rapid manner in which the business was trans- 
acted, it would seem that the effort was to secure 
Woolley's arrest before Seely would have a chance to 
see and make a settlement with him. 

[ September 9, 1879.] 

THE WOOLLEY CASE. 



Latest Phases, Rumors and Developments — The 
Statement of Seely, and what it Means when 
Diagrammed — The Moore and Fleming Suits 
Continued to Wednesday. 

The Woolley case still remains as much a mystery 
in its several departments as it wa3 last Saturday morn- 
ing, when the publication of the several theories was 
first made. The missing man has not been heard from 
and the populace of Brown township is on the tip toe 



3l6 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

of excitement. Last Sunday the citizens of that and 
adjoining townships turned out in force to hunt for the 
body of Woolley, which was supposed secreted some- 
where in the vincinity of where he was last seen. 

There was over three hundred engaged in scouring 
the country, but their efforts were without success. 
The most that is to be said about the disappearance 
proper, has to be taken from rumor and the state- 
ments of parties, almost every one of whom has a dif- 
ferent theory. They are, however, made none the less 
valuable for this reason, and the public is entitled to all 
shades of developments. 

The account given in this paper yesterday morning 
relative to the statement of D. T. Seely, of Westerville, 
the insurance was correct as given to the reporter in an 
interview on Saturday, and one of the most responsible 
and respected citizens of Franklin County, who was 
present at the time of the conversation, is willing to 
vouch for the same as he understood it. 

Mr. Elliott, with whom Mr. Seely had the conversa- 
tion embodied in the interview, says that it is correct in 
the main, the probable single exception being that Mr. 
Elliott says that he did not ask Seely to swear out a 
warrant for the arrest of Woolley, or make any such sug- 
gestion to him. This is a matter between themselves 
and one of minor importance at any rate. The follow- 
ing was furnished for publication yesterday evening, but 
owing to a chronic press of jealousy, a desire to sup- 
press news and find fault, it failed to appear and is 
given herewith : 
To the Editor of the Ohio State Journal : 

In reply to the matter of S. J. Woolley, of Brown 
township, this county, which I noticed in your pape r 
of the 6th inst. , I would say so far as him having a barn 
insured in the Ohio Farmers' company, and destroyed 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 317 

about a year ago, is correct. I would also say that I 
never said to any one that I suspected Mr. Woolley of 
arson, and that I have never employed any one to ferret 
out the matter, and the gentlemen referred to are 
strangers to me. D. T. Seely, Agent. 

Westerville, O. 

A card containing the same points and in about the 
sume words, was handed to the State Journal Saturday, 
but owing to a more complete and satisfactory state- 
ment being obtained from Mr. Seely himself — the same 
was not used Monday morning. The point made in the 
card is the same as that made in Mr. Seely's fuller 
statement, being that he did not make a business of 
going about the country and telling every person he 
knew that he suspected Mr. Woolley of arson. This 
we believe, is all that Mr. Seely claims is incorrect, and 
it is a late day now for him to say that he did not 
suspect Mr. Woolley of anything, after insurance money 
has been refunded and accepted in good faith. The 
refunding of the money is the unfortunate feature in the 
case for Mr. Woolley, and is a source of no small pain 
and regret on the part of prominent citizens and busi- 
ness men, who had learned to confide and trust in him. 
The simple fact that the money was refunded should 
not lead persons to the mistaken conclusion against Mr. 
Woolley, because as yet it is nothing more than an 
open charge, without probably any person sufficiently 
interested to go ahead and establish the same by evi- 
dence, even if such a thing could be done. A man 
from Brown township told a reporter of this paper yes- 
terday that Mr. Woolley had other reasons for paying 
the money back to Mr. Seely, reasons which are en- 
tirely private and known to but few. It can only be 
hoped that such is the case, and the true statement of 
the affair will appear in due time. The immediate 



3l8 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

friends of Mr. Woolley, who claim to know and were in 
the city yesterday, were not slow to express the 
opinion that Woolley has either been foully dealt with, 
or is being held at some private place for purposes of 
extortion. To substantiate the last theory they cite the 
round-about offer which was alleged to have been made 
last Saturday to the effect that $1,000 would clear the 
country of important line of prosecution, and leave 
Woolley free to return without fears of being molested. 

The particulars of the arrest have been pretty well 
developed, with the exception of the West Jefferson 
end of the affair, where the trial and settlement was 
alleged to have taken place before 'Squire Brown. The 
following was received last night and may throw a little 
light on the subject : 

West Jefferson, O., Sept. 8th. 

The town has been in fever heat about the disappear- 
ance 'of Woolley. Your article of Saturday's issue was 
the first we knew of this place being interested in the 
case. Quite a number of our citizens saw Woolley, 
Elliott, Moore and Fleming when they were here, but 
no one knew of any case being tried. 'Squire Brown 
says Woolley was acquitted of the charge. Parties 
who have seen the docket say there is nothing of the 
case at all. A report came last evening that Woolley's 
body had been found in the Big Darby. It stirred our 
good citizens up, and two men were sent out to Jones' 
to see if it was correct. At I A. m. they returned with 
word that his body had not been found. 

It will be remembered that when Moore and Fleming 
were at Woolley's residence last Friday, an effort was 
made to arrest them, prominent among whom were 
Constable Linn, who it is stated was resisted at the 
point of a revolver. Linn appeared in the city on 
Saturday, and while the two men were being held on 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 2I9 

suspicion, Linn filed an affidavit charging them with an 
assault with intent to kill and murder. It was arranged 
for the case to be heard yesterday afternoon before 
Mayor Collins, but owing to some misunderstanding 
in getting service on witnesses for the defense, the case 
had to be continued to Wednesday, and the time for 
hearing 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Ex-Prosecutor 
Outhwaite appeared for the State yesterday, and attor- 
ney Castle for the defense. There was fifteen or twenty 
persons present from Brown township, and all seem to 
be much interested in the proceedings. The Mayor 
fixed the appearance bond of Moore and Fleming at 
$500 each, and last evening they succeded in securing 
the required bonds and were released. 

[September 12, 1879.] 

THE WOOLLEY MYSTERY. 

Nothing has yet been heard of the whereabouts of 
Woolley, the man who so mysteriously disappeared in 
Brown township one week ago last Thursday. The 
many responsible farmers in the vicinity of Woolley's 
home about all have a theory of their own, and the time 
has been taken up exhausting each. The favorite theory 
now is that Woolley is alive and has left the country 
until the storm of excitement blows over. 

There was a report yesterday morning that tracks 
had been discovered leading across a corn field and 
down to the edge of Darby creek, which would answer 
to the size of Mr. Woolley's foot, but there is no fur- 
ther evidence than this in that direction, and the com- 
plete search that has been made, not only of the country 
round about, but also of Darby creek, leaves very little 
ground for the theory that the body of Woolley is at 
any place in the creek. 



320 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

It was also reported yesterday that Woolley's wife 
had received a couple of letters the evening previous, 
and that they probably contained some evidence of his 
whereabouts. Captain Sells, of Hilliard, who is a jus- 
tice of the peace and also postmaster at that place, was 
in the city last evening, and states that Mrs. Woolley 
has received no letter since her husband went away or 
disappeared. He is under instructions to deliver her 
mail to a certain person and no other, hence he would 
be apt to know if any letters should reach her in the 
regular manner. 

[September 1 6, 1879.] 

WOOLLEY INTERVIEWED. 



He Runs Against a Reporter and Says Briefly. 

Mr. S. J. Wooley, of Brown township, concerning 
whom so much has been said and written in connection 
with his mysterious disappearance several days ago, was 
in the city yesterday, and, in the course of his peram- 
bulations, ran across a State Journal reporter. Mr. 
Woolley is rather aged in appearance, and has the look 
of a man with considerable force of character, although 
he seems down and troubled in mind. He seems like a 
man who has been thoroughly frightened, and looks 
upon the movements of every stranger who approaches 
with a sort of dread and suspicion. 

Mr. Woolley did not seem talkative on the subject of 
his disappearance to the extent of taking up the story 
from the beginning and giving a complete account of 
the same from his standpoint. He said he had business 
to attend to at Richmond, Ind., and he went there in 
part for that purpose, although it was not his intention 
to remain silent about his whereabouts and thus give his 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 321 

family trouble. He sent an express package to a mem- 
ber of his family, and expected that in this manner his 
wife would receive information of where he was, but 
somehow the package was mislead, and failed to come 
through. As regards the going away in the manner he 
did, all of which is known to the public, Mr. Woolley 
says that nothing induced him to go but one thing, and 
that was the mortal fear he entertained of the men into 
whose clutches he had fallen. After being hauled over 
the country all night, and undergoing the ordeal of a 
mock trial, supposed settlement, and increased demand 
for money, he concluded to make his escape the first 
chance he had. The men who had him in charge were 
all drinking, and with this condition of things he could 
expect nothing else but foul treatment, should the occa- 
sion present itself in good shape. 

Mr. Woolley has made up his mind to stay now and 
see the thing through. He says there was no occasion 
for his leaving beyond the reason already assigned. In 
regard to what has been said in the papers, Mr. Wool- 
ley did not seem to find objections, with the exception 
of the intimation at the photograph business, and he 
said he must have that straightened up. There are 
numerous friends of a substantial kind who will ad- 
vise Mr. Woolley to stand his ground. The exact 
business in the city is not known, but it is safe to say 
that in a few days there will something drop. 

\September ijth, 1879.] 

Mr S. J. Woolley, whose disappearance caused so 
much excitement in Brown township, was in the city 
yesterday. He says he is ready to stand any investiga- 
tion that is asked on his account, and that he has already 
taken measures to prosecute those who were attempting 
to blackmail and extort money from him. 
40 



322 LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

CONCLUSION. 

After examining -these reports and notices of the 
press, my reader, no doubt, will be interested to look 
at that portion of the testimony upon which so much 
depended, and which has come into my hands since the 
writing of the foregoing pages. I therefore beg leave 
to incorporate here a synopsis of questions and answers 
which brought out the special fact which rose above all 
the rest in this remarkable controversy : 

I was asked to what point I went after reaching the 
railroad, in my escape from the desperadoes, and after 
answering "Richmond, Indiana," and stating in reply 
to a question that I waited there until the passing of 
the Indianapolis train, my attention was called to the 
statement that I had made to the effect that I commu- 
nicated with my family the next morning after I left the 
house of Evan Jones. I then had opportunity to state 
the manner of that communication. I sent a large en- 
velope containing some things by express, directed to 
J. M. Johnson, the gentleman who was in my house on 
the night of the 3d, and who was the foreman of my 
tile works. The whole affair was done hurriedly by the 
necessity of the case. I went to Indianapolis and 
seized that opportunity to inform my family of my 
whereabouts. I remained at Indianapolis until I heard 
from my family. So soon as I reached that city in the 
evening, I wrote another message to my home. The 
day afterward I sent a telegram to James Fleming, 
Secretary of the Ohio State Board of Agriculture. It 
was eight or ten days before I heard from home. These 
were answers brought out by the questions of Mr. 
Castle, who also gave me occasion to say that a short 
time after the trial of Elliott, Mr. Seely repaid the 
money to me from the insurance company. 

My wife was called. She testified concerning the let- 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 323 

ter, and said that she got a letter out of the office ad- 
dressed to Mr. Johnson ; that she brought it home and 
very naturally put it up, and that the letter remained 
where she put it until the next week. This was the 
letter I wrote at the office of the Drainage Journal. 
Mr. Billingsly, the editor, kindly gave me an envelope, 
and I asked him to address it for me, sitting at his desk 
as he was, and being a fine penman. The envelope had 
his card printed thereon, and addressed as it was by him 
to Mr. Johnson, being of the same sort as many other 
envelopes containg circulars to me concerning the tile 
business, it would have been very strange if my wife 
had opened it. The next week I wrote to my wife an- 
other letter, addressed by myself, though I used that 
sort of an envelope. This my wife opened and read, as 
she would, naturally enough. She received this letter 
on the nth or 12th of September. My wife proceeded 
to state that she told Mr. Johnson that she brought a 
letter for him like the one she had from me, from the 
office, and saying that he would like to see it, he read 
it and was astonished to find a letter from her husband. 
She then told of my sending some keys and notes to 
her, whereupon I arrived the next day after she had 
received them. 

Nicholas Kcehler testified that he made a mistake in 
reading the address on the package and gave it to J. 
M. Robinson instead of J. M. Johnson, who gave a 
receipt for it. When Robinson brought the package 
back to the express office Dr. Seeds was there, and he 
said he was confident that the writing was that "of Mr. 
Woolley." He told Mr. Johnson, and Johnson came 
to the office and recognized the writing. 

I have thus called attention to this testimony to show 
how truly I made every effort to make communication 
with my family. Such a set of untoward circumstances 



324 . LIFE, RECOLLECTIONS AND OPINIONS OF 

and events intervened that, as has been shown, they 
did not hear from me ; but I trust that as the jury- 
found, so will my readers find, that it was no fault of 
mine that they had not the fullest information of my 
whereabouts. 

All the testimony in these cases was taken by the 
efficient official stenographer, Mr. C. H. Lander, and 
the cases themselves were in the hands of the excellent 
prosecuting attorney, Mr. W. J. Clark, and the Hon. 
J. H. Outhwaite and Col. J. H. Holmes, to whom I 
here return my sincere gratitude. 

Throughout the case, every effort was made on the 
part of the defense to avoid trial ; I have referred to 
these efforts to postpone justice. In February, when 
the trial of Moore came, the defense asked for a post- 
ponement, because an important witness could not be 
obtained. I happened to know that the " important 
witness " was in reach, and he was placed before the 
Court with this result : that he knew utterly nothing 
about the case. Again they attempted to postpone, 
because important witnesses could not be obtained. I 
then found what they expected to prove by them, and 
simply admitted that they could prove these things by 
these witnesses (for they would swear to anything), 
and the case went on. 

The trials of both Elliott a*nd Moore, were noted by 
the press, and had I not already showed the interest 
which the public took in the matter, I should put before 
my readers some specimens of the just interest which 
the press of the city of Columbus and the State took in 
the progress of the trial. 

The trial of Moore developed more facts and brought 
to the surface more malevolence on the part of the de- 
fense than that of Elliott. A certain Mr. Castle became 
the champion of these men, and what the defense lost 



S. J. WOOLLEY. 325 

in brains in the fact that Judge Rankin forsook the case, 
was perhaps compensated in the gain of low pettyfog- 
ging in the fact of this other acquisition. The conduct 
of that attorney with regard to my wife, while she tried 
to relate the story of that night, was exceedingly un- 
gentlemanly and beneath either the dignity or the honor 
of a lawyer. 

Yet, in these closing pages, I am glad to say that I 
have learned to forgive. I cannot and will not go down 
into old age with a rankling, unforgiving hate in my 
soul. I come to these last words, therefore, with 
charity for all. My creed will not admit of that vindic- 
tiveness which casts a gloomy shadow upon him who 
cherishes it. It is ungenerous, while my enemies are 
both in yonder penitentiary, to let a fierce hate climb 
over their walls to attack them with this last episode. I 
have thought to stop, and with my reader shake hands 
of farewell, repeating to him, as I have to my own 
heart, the words of Emerson : 

" Lowly, faithful, banish fear, — 
Right onward, then, unharmed; 
The port well worth the cruise is near, 
And every wave is charmed." 



FINIS. 




Oh! Fop Heavens Sake Go Away, } 

\Ano/ll Commence /n 7*£ Mop.nja'c To Haul J 
\ T/le From WooiLErs J 

GREAT INDUCEMENTS TO DRAIN YOUR FARM! 

A Sure Gain of from Twenty-five to Fifty Bushels of Corn to 
the Acre, with Half the Work of Man and Team. 



DRAIN YOUR LAND AND MAKE YOUR SOIL FROM TWO TO FOUR 
FEET DEEPER. 



Drain Your Land and Go Dry-shod, and Save Your Health and 

Doctor Bills. 



At Appledale Farm, three miles west of Hilliard, O., I 
have a large amount of SUPERIOR DRIAN TILE, of all 
sizes, and will sell on a year's time, without interest, or 
discount ten per cent, for cash 

All that purchase $20 worth of tils hereafter will receive 
this book as a premium. I give liberal measure ; they over- 
run three and one-half rods in one hundred. 

My tile are the cheapest in the county, considering the 
quality of the tile. 

I will sell, from my Appledale herd of Devons, Calves of 
either sex. S. J. WOOLLEY. 

Hilliard, O., 1881. 



